Ghosts of Babylon
by The Noble Rot
Summary: Audrey didn't die in the crash. Bleeding, suffering immense pain but still alive, the young girl is pulled from the wreckage by one just as injured as she is, though he wears his wounds on the inside. Their relationship will threaten to destroy them both.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Wreckage

The crash.

Dear God, who hated them all and wanted them dead and gone, the crash had been more horrible than anything she'd ever experienced in her life. The car rolled once, twice, three times, more. A baby screaming. A woman – it had to be Charlie – screaming too. The window glass smashing against her head. Audrey couldn't even muster a scream of her own.

_SLAM!_

"…Our Father, who art in Heaven…"

_SLAM!_

"…hallowed be thy name…"

An angel had done this to them, damn it! An angel! The car seemed to revolve as if in a dream, and something snapped in Audrey's thigh with a blinding blaze of agony. Images flew through her mind as she was tossed within the metal coffin of the police car like a doll in a dryer. Images of the little fat naked cherubs her grandmother used to keep on top of the old television set in her apartment. Little badly-painted angels with big dopey Precious Moments eyes, clutching patched teddy bears and puppies in dust-caked arms. Stupid looking, cheap, crappy things picked up at the dollar store by an indifferent daughter on the way down and displayed with gratitude by a mother who desperately wanted to pretend that she was loved. Even then it made Audrey sad…

_SLAM!_

A nativity scene in front of the Rotary Club that they put up every Christmas in her hometown. The little wooden stable, the crouched plastic figures of sheep and wise men and a crooked hump-backed camel lit from within. Joseph leaning over his wife and the little glowing Son, Mary looking trim and pious just hours after giving birth, little baby Jesus fat and happy and white. And the tall angel standing protectively nearby, the snow piling up on its brightly colored plastic shoulders and the trumpet it held to its lips.

_SLAM!_

Some stupid church pageant she'd been in. A white bathrobe, her father's? A halo of silver tinsel and cardboard wings held onto her back with gold satin ribbon. What were her lines? The ones she's practiced for weeks in advance, over and over in her bedroom mirror to make sure she didn't get them wrong and embarrass herself in front of a whole Sunday School who already thought she was a freak because she wore black nail polish at the age of nine and had read everything Anne Rice ever wrote. Practice the lines, damn it. Practice! "Do not fear, Mary, the Lord is with you. Do not fear, Mary, the Lord is with you. Do not fear, Mary, the Lord is with you…"

It was Gabriel, wasn't it, who came to the frightened woman-child over two thousand years ago to tell her that her small womb held the secret to the salvation of mankind. Shivering with terror, the holy glow from his presence casting shadows against the surrounding bushes, Mary on her knees in reverence so long ago before the very creature who has just ripped the roof off their car in an attempt to kill the next great Savior.

Irony was such a bitch.

_SLAM!_

And the car finally fell still, rocked once like a fishing boat with a hull breach, then settled with a tinkle of broken glass and splashing motor fluids into a broken heap on the sandy ground. Silence.

The last thing Audrey saw before she succumbed to merciful darkness was blood streaking her dirty blonde hair, matting it into a lacework across her left eye, and the high distant stars beyond. Then there was nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: A Dubious Rescue

What was this madness?! This insubordination masquerading as faithfulness?

Michael the General, the one whose instincts had not failed him at the end. Oh, how Gabriel hated him for that! He'd followed orders, not questioning the morality behind such orders, not questioning anything at all! Why would he? The One who sent him had _created_ the laws, had forged the very concepts of morality before the world was even made! Nothing mattered more than following the letter of the law. Don't ask questions, do as you're told, get up and buckle on your armor and stretch your wings and prepare for anything…even killing your brother if necessary.

But things were never that simple anymore. Michael's pristine blue eyes were cool and held no judgment, but Gabriel felt rage flare in the pit of his stomach nonetheless. To be ridiculed for following orders was intolerable! He spread the mighty thirteen foot span of his wings and plummeted from the cliff side, holy fire burning his heart, a heart that would never stop beating, not in a thousand million years. Born in the precious seconds after the glittering universe was flung from unseen Hands into a shadowed void of purest nothing, the archangels enjoyed an unadulterated bond with the Creator long before the damnable advent of the Age of Talking Monkeys.

He touched down, lightly, then stumbled against a blackened rock in the gathering light. Rich dark blood pooled at his feet, seeping from the savage tear across his abdomen left by the knife of his brother and dearest friend. He had seen no tears in Michael's eyes when that blade hit home. The wretchedness of an angel who would self-mutilate and defy the Living God only to be granted absolution and honored…_honored_ for his impudence was more agonizing than a hundred knife wounds.

Gabriel pulled back, away from the light and the warmth and the parting clouds and the distant figure of Michael the chosen one, Michael the faithful one, Michael the moral compass ascending into the blinding glory of Heaven. Self-pity was an alien feeling, and he wasted no more time on it, preferring the cleanliness of pure anger instead. Gabriel turned his attention to the wound on his stomach, a gash that would be mortal to any creature but an angel. Pain he could bear, and far more than this. When one served in the Armies of God, pain was a constant reality. No slave of the Fallen One held back his hand from injuring an angel, especially an archangel. Raphael had taken deadly hurt only three centuries past, rent to pieces by the hordes of Lucifer on the battlefield of what was then the Northern Kingdom. Gabriel had been there, had heard the screams and felt the talons in his own flesh – he reached absently to trace the thick line of a scar on his neck, next to the iron collar. Yes…he could bear pain. But this heartache, the knowledge that Michael had been right and he had been wrong, made him feel desolate and heavy with agony.

He set his mace against a rock, leaning back into a little alcove out of the light. The blood would dry, he knew, but the injury needed tending. He almost didn't care. Perhaps it would be better to bleed to death here in the literally God-forsaken wasteland rather than expend the energy to rise into a Heaven he no longer understood. A raven wheeled by overhead. The sun broke through the clouds again. A baby cried somewhere, far off.

Damn the monkeys and their idiotic happy endings. The whining puppy dog of a man, the chain-smoking bitch and her bastard child, the little swaddled bundle of doomed hope that would hold off the inevitable for perhaps another two thousand years… he could wait that long if need be... let them have their moment of relief. The Holy Servant of the Most High bowed his head and placed a bloody hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

'_Damn them to the fires of Hell'_, he thought bitterly, and then realized with a sense of sad pride that he was probably the only being on the planet who knew the precise location of the place and could conceivably draw them a diagram.

Something moved out there, in the sand.

A whimper. A moan, maybe. Gabriel's keen eyes snapped back up, scanning the horizon. A little distance away, past the sharp curve of the road, the wreckage of the police car still smoldered. He could smell the blood mixed with the gasoline and the oil and the sickly-sweet fragrance of the engine coolant leaking onto the pavement. But who could be moaning? The boy and the new mother and her pathetic offspring were even now making their way down the hill behind him, bound for the town again. The young woman with the tortured eyes had dies in the crash, hadn't she?

He stood up, hefted the spiked mace into his right hand again, and folded his bruised wings back. The sun glinted off his hammered steel breastplate and the cruel contours of the iron collar he wore as he moved silently to stand over the crumpled body of the young woman. No sound broke the stillness. No birds singing, no insects buzzing, not even a distant motor or the yelp of a coyote. He surveyed her, noting the way the sunlight picked out the gold highlights in her hair and the way her miniscule black skirt had been ripped almost to the waistband, revealing torn flesh and embedded gravel and blood-stained yellow panties with tiny green stars. He knelt down, looking somehow more lordly on one knee than any living man had ever looked standing up straight on a pedestal. On the dirt before him, Audrey opened her eyes.

"Daddy." She croaked. She was delirious, maybe dying, her lips cracked and her pupils wildly dilated. Gabriel's expression did not change. He didn't pity her, or so he told himself.

"I am not your father, child." He told her. Audrey blinked, trying to clear the debris and caked blood from her eyes. Somewhere deep in her mind, she knew that there was an angel hovering over her. Something told her that she should be alarmed, that this wasn't a good thing, but the tiny niggling fear was drowned out by seventeen years of hearing that angels were delightful creatures who would come to take you home to Heaven when you died.

"You…you come to…here to take me…take home…" she couldn't speak properly, the words wouldn't form. Even her thoughts stuttered.

Gabriel watched her dispassionately for another moment. Then, with one easy gesture, he leaned down and lifted her with one arm against his chest as though the girl weighed no more than a baby lamb. God knew he'd carried his share of lambs. Audrey gave a cry as her broken leg twisted cruelly with the movement, but her delirium dulled the pain and she quieted as the angel who held her beat his wings once, twice against the air and lifted them from the ground in a powerful movement. Straight up, then veering not toward the welcoming rays of light from above but rather toward the gathering storm clouds to the far west. Craggy mountains wreathed in purple shadows, sullen and mean-looking, loomed out of the cloud banks, and soon the pair were swallowed up in the gloom.

Far below them on the ground, Charlie and Jeep watched the retreating nightmare with wary relief.

"Why d'you think he's taking that poor dead girl with him?" Jeep asked in hushed tones, mystified.

Charlie narrowed her eyes, holding her child a little closer to her heart. He was warm and alive and perfect in her arms, and she stroked his downy head with one protective hand.

"Don't know," she said angrily, "Don't really care either. Just so long as he doesn't come back…"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Prisoner

Gabriel found what he'd been looking for eighty miles northwest of Paradise Falls. A vast wall of rock soaring higher than the surrounding landscape, wind-whipped and hostile in the gathering fury of a storm. His wings beat hard to keep them both from being thrown into the tumble of the black clouds and driving hail. The girl lolled unconscious in his arms, buffeted by the wind and the hail and the razor-sharp pinion feathers of the seraph who held her. He was not gentle. Why should he be? A whim drove this rescue, if indeed a rescue it could be called. Gabriel angled into a dive, coming to rest on a small ledge before a deep crack near the top of the cliff edge. A place inaccessible from below, impossible to climb up to or down from, a prison without bars for any being unfortunate enough to not possess wings. Such a spot was worth the two hours of searching he'd done, no matter the pain in his stomach or the way the girl had panted and whimpered every time she'd come round.

He moved deeper into the sheltering cool dark of the cave, noting with grim satisfaction that it was dry and well out of the wind. He set the girl down against the smooth rock wall in the far back and turned his attention to surveying their surroundings. What must he gather? Firewood, certainly. Little fragile humans needed heat. And water, to clean her injuries. Something soft for her to lay upon. She would need feeding. And proper clothing. Restraints would be unnecessary, the child was going nowhere unless she felt like casting herself hundreds of feet down to the jagged rocks below. He was not afraid of her harming him, although he knew that she would turn either to rage or paralyzing fear the moment she awoke. Judging by the quickening in her breath, it would not be long. She had perhaps an hour to live if he did nothing.

"Human, in your dreaming hear my voice." he whispered. Audrey's limbs twitched, she drew a shaking breath, her eyelids fluttered. No earthly creature could block out that Voice. It had called to prophets and warriors and kings and babes in the womb, cutting through the haze of insanity and the fog of death, always drawing full attention and changing forever the lives of those who heard and were compelled to obey through faith or fear. Gabriel touched her hair, feeling the gossamer strands slip through his fingers like silk across polished marble. "I go to find objects of comfort for you. When I return you will awaken. Until then, sleep deeply and do not stir."

* * *

He folded his wings back for the descent from the mountain, closing his eyes as the wind rushed past him. Any joy he had once felt at flying had long since dulled in the face of limitless years of stoicism and an almost single-minded focus on duty. Soaring with the current, he located a small ugly village that squatted like a toad in the basin of the valley below. The storm that savaged the mountain with such force had not come to this place yet, nor would it if the wind held its direction. He cast his gaze around the dirty houses, the scrub brush, the few twisted trees. Firewood was easy enough, even here.

The clothesline strung between a nearby vile green trailer and a withered-looking shrub yielded a cotton gown, blankets. He had no eye for beauty, not in the foolish things these monkeys built with their wicked little fingers. The door gave way as easily as a sheet of parchment under the weight of his mace, and within he found two terrified humans, a bored gray cat, and a poorly stocked medical cabinet that would have to do for the moment. Debating on whether or not to dispatch the humans, Gabriel decided to spare them in the interests of alacrity rather than mercy.

At the door he turned briefly, a thought striking him. The couple were older, well into their seventies, the man standing perhaps a head taller than the woman. Neither one of them held a weapon. They sat beside one another on an ancient dusty sofa, holding hands, unable to speak as they stared in awe and fright at the winged intruder who clutched a handful of their laundry and their first aid kit in one hand and a thirty-pound spiked mace in the other.

"Food." He commanded. They remained frozen, and he lifted his mace slightly. This seemed to jar the woman from her stupor, and she bolted into the kitchen, hurling canned goods and boxes and parcels of meat into an old flour sack. She did not dare approach him, letting the bundle fall onto the counter as she backed away. On the couch, the man had begun to pray with quickly rising excitement.

Gabriel did not thank them. Back in the yard, he gathered his burdens and soared into the cloud-troubled sky. The couple stared at their shattered door for a very long time, not saying a word to one another. The cat got up, stretched languidly, sauntered to his bowl and ate a little, returned to his pillow, curled up again. Still the elderly couple did not move. Finally, the man turned to regard his wife.

"You gave him my donuts." He said accusatorily.

* * *

Gabriel knew that he shouldn't keep her, shouldn't take this hurt young girl captive simply because he found the play of light across her hair pleasant to look upon. And yet he could not recall the last time he'd found anything pleasant. His lips did not remember how to smile. But the broken girl was beautiful to him. She smelled faintly of some cheap perfume and a fruit-based soap. There was a tattoo of a hummingbird across her lower back, visible when he'd carried her here. He could not say why, but the image of the tiny vibrant bird across such a sensitive area seemed endearing. There was no tenderness in Gabriel's gaze as he watched Audrey shiver and moan in her unnatural sleep, the blood oozing down her face and her chest and her long bare legs. He laid out the wood with practiced swiftness, setting it alight with flint and steel. A glorious warmth crept into the cave, a warmth that chased the damp chill from every corner and suffused the darkness with a soft golden light. The medical supplies were next – a roll of gauze to serve as splint ties, a sturdy branch to brace her leg, a dozen squares of sterile pads moistened with rainwater to wipe the blood from her body, needle and thread to suture her wounds, a small bottle of antiseptic to keep infection from ravaging her system before she had a chance to heal. Gabriel laid everything neatly on a folded blanket, knowing that he would need them in a few moments.

But the weather woke her before he could perform his ministrations. Thunder pealed outside, a loud crash that shook loose a sliding rivulet of stones from the ceiling. But it held firm. Audrey's eyes opened in response, and she looked up at the winged man in armor standing silhouetted by sheet lightning at the cave mouth. She screamed, suddenly wide awake and full of terror.

"NO! Oh God no, please no!!"

The crash came back to her mind. The unearthly sound of the horn blast that heralded his arrival the awful night when her mother died. The mace…her panic-stricken stare flicked to the weapon leaning against the rock beside him…crashing through the floor in an explosion of splinters. Audrey choked on her own blood and the scream was cut off. She could not scoot back, the rock wall was behind her. She clawed at her cheeks, tears streaming down her face, gasping, preparing for another scream.

Gabriel moved to stand directly above her.

"Silence." He commanded, and Audrey covered her face with her hands, curling her one good leg up to her chest in fright. Cowering, oblivious to the pain. Gabriel knelt down and pulled her wrists away, forcing her to look at him. "You will be shown mercy."

But despite his words, the pale eyes with which he surveyed her held no kindness. There was no compassion there, no 'mercy', nothing warm to appeal to. Inhuman. That inhumanity was the last straw. Something broke free in Audrey's chest, and her fear vanished.

"M…my mother! My mother, you fucking ASSHOLE! My father! You call that MERCY?!" she'd found her voice, livid fires burning through her chest like lava. She wrenched her left hand free from his grasp, struck him with all the force she could muster across his cheek, digging in her nails. She spit on him, threw her body weight against the armored chest, fought like a cornered rat, tried to bite but couldn't reach. Gabriel, who could have snapped her neck in an instant, merely withstood the assault and did not draw away. He released her other hand, and she used both to strike him again and again, opening afresh a wound on his forehead and ripping a long line of blood down his jaw. She screamed, cried, wailed their names over and again. They were screwed up and dysfunctional and annoying, but they were HERS! And now they were gone forever.

"MOMMY! DAD! MOM! DAD! I HATE YOU, YOU DID THIS TO ME! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" she beat the archangel with her hands, kicked him with her uninjured leg, ripped his glossy black feathers out by the handful, fought his unresisting silence with every ounce of strength she had left until her slaps became pats and her kicks became weak pushes. Her eyes were swollen almost shut from the strain of crying. At last, when Audrey had no more rage to hurl at him, Gabriel drew back and wiped the blood and spit from his face with a corner of the flour sack. He did not look angry. He did not look as though he felt any emotion at all.

"You will lie down now." He told her, and Audrey had no energy to fight him off as he pushed her down on her back atop the folded blanket. He picked up a moist gauze pad and began to dab efficiently at the yawning gash on her hip, picking out the gravel.

"I hate you." She whispered brokenly. His eyes flicked up to meet hers for a moment.

"It is of no concern, human. You are mine nonetheless."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Agony

One injury was clean, but the girl was covered with many more and needed to have several large gashes sewn closed. Gabriel set aside the gauze and drew his knife from its leather sheath. It was over a thousand years old, honed to a razor's edge, intricately carved with the same strange symbols that adorned his body. Angelic script, runes of protection and admonition and reminder…as if he even cared to be reminded of anything anymore.

Audrey weakly pushed at his hands as he snapped the last threads on her skirt , pulled it from beneath her body, opened her ripped and bloodstained halter top with his knife and drew it aside. It was a tangible violation, and it hurt every cell in her body that she had no power to stop him.

Another fear began to rise in her as the angel exposed her aching body to the firelight and the chilly storm air. She hadn't thought about the possibility of anything terrible happening to her other than death. Her parents had already died, her life was destroyed, the only thing remaining was for this monster to dispatch her as well. But now, as his large warm hands stripped away the few pathetic scraps of protection between her naked body and his unfeeling gaze, she felt a wave of panic. What would it be like, to be raped by an angel? Was it even possible? He cut through the straps of her bra, the sides of her thong (damn it they'd cost twenty-eight goddamn bucks), but his eyes didn't change. Not even a flicker of malice or arousal, though that didn't matter. Audrey knew a man didn't have to want you in order to rape you. She'd passed out at a party one night and discovered the hard way that even total strangers were capable of completing the act no matter how drunk or stoned or disinterested they were. A man's body seemed made for violence. And God, this one was huge. Would it kill her if he raped her? Was he about to? Audrey hoped she'd die soon, before he could even begin the act. To be raped by a man was one thing. You could squeeze your eyes shut and pray and get through it, make do somehow. Just find a happy place. Maybe pretend that the angels would come and protect you and bear you away to Heaven where Jesus meek and mild sat and suffered little children to come unto Him. To be raped by an angel…well…that was a cruelty she couldn't begin to fathom. What does one cling to when there's no such thing as salvation anymore?

"_Let me die, let me die, let me die, let me die…" _she thought desperately, and then a moment later she wondered to whom it was she was actually speaking anymore.

Gabriel ignored her obvious fear. He did not wish to cause her further pain, but there was no way to heal her without inflicting more suffering. He worked quickly, his efficiency coming from eons of battlefield medicine. And these hands knew the frailties of humanity. The stories said nothing about the Virgin's birth pangs and the bewildered human husband crying out to God to help them, two poor village folk in that filthy little stable next to a stinking inn. The stories picked up at the 'No room inside, go to the manger', skipped the birth, and re-started at three bearded kings kneeling in the sand with great riches in their hands. What was left unsaid was the arrival of Gabriel and Michael, both of them acting as midwives for the newborn king of men. Michael held the woman Mary in his arms against his chest while Joseph held her hand and repeated encouraging words, his voice breaking with fear. It was Gabriel whose hands touched the child first, for it was he who knelt in the straw and lifted her rough homespun skirts and braced her small blistered feet on his thighs and oversaw the delivery. She tried so hard to be brave, and though Gabriel said no word to her, he held her with his eyes and lent her all the strength he could in silence. Joseph told her he loved her. Michael told her when to push. But it was Gabriel that Mary looked to. She had trusted him from the day he'd first come to her and told her of all the miraculous things that were to follow. Gentle, humble Mary. Just a child herself, really, no more than fifteen. How his heart had ached to see her suffering, knowing that the coming years would only increase it! She was so frail that it seemed a gust of wind could have blown her apart, and yet so strong that she alone among women had been chosen to bear the light of the world. Sweet Mary, of whom he felt so protective and for whom he held such respect. Yes, Gabriel had seen the frailties of humankind…and also their fortitude.

He reached beside him, picking up two sturdy branches and laying them on each side of Audrey's broken leg. Beneath these he ran four strips of gauze, then laid his hands atop her thigh. Pale gray-blue eyes met swollen hazel as he stared down at her.

"This will hurt. Your leg is broken and must be repaired."

She said nothing, too afraid to speak. Her hands moved to cover her breasts, hide her nakedness somehow. The fact that he'd just informed her of his intention to help her, did not for one moment offer her any comfort. She braced herself for the pain he was about to cause. Her whole body already ached so much. Every breath was misery. Why was he even bothering? She wanted him dead.

With a smooth, quick motion he pushed the broken bone back into place, the resultant 'CRACK' almost completely drowned out by Audrey's sharp scream. She half-rose reflexively from her place on the blanket, crying out, the pain so intense that she nearly lost consciousness and wished she could. Gabriel pushed her back down and pinned her shoulder to the floor with his knee as he tied each strip of gauze tightly around the splint, holding it securely in place. Audrey struggled and screamed in agony, but he was relentless in his healing. He opened the bottle of antiseptic and poured it into the wound on her stomach, then drew forth from the medical kit the needle and thread.

"Oh God _no_! Not like this! I'm awake, damn it! _PLEASE_!" she screamed at him.

"Hold still." He responded dispassionately, but for a moment his gaze lingered on her anguished face. He stopped, pulling back slightly. The girl was sobbing, pleading with him, completely unaware of the physical danger her body was in at the moment. She was losing blood. But her fear, her eyes, her tears…did they mean nothing to him?

He raised one hand to her face, cupping her cheek and smoothing the hair away from her sweating forehead. This gesture of kindness unraveled Audrey, confused her beyond belief. She couldn't stop crying. She was cold and naked and injured and in so much pain that she wanted to die. The angel removed his knee from her shoulder and drew her up into a sitting position, into his arms and against the hard cold metal of his breastplate. She shrank away from the freezing surface, and he pulled the blanket up and around her shoulders to warm her. The girl was shaking. Perhaps he had been over-rough with her. He stretched his wings around them in the chill air, blotting out the wan light from the fire and enveloping them both in velvet darkness. Audrey hated him even more for the comfort it brought her when warmth suffused her body. She raised her head weakly, hitching sobs catching in her throat, and caught the glitter of his eyes watching her in the dark.

"What the fuck are you?" she whispered.

"I am Gabriel, leader of the seraphim, the highest order of the angelic hosts."

Audrey was silent, breathing in the strange scent of his body and his powerful wings. Cold stone, starlight, some dusky incense that reminded her of old churches and funeral parlors. It was not unpleasant. But she wanted him away from her, as far away as possible. He had completely destroyed her life and tried to kill a baby…all because he'd been told to. Was God telling him to do something even worse to her now? There was no Michael here to protect her. She drew a deep breath.

" I thought angels were supposed to be good. But you're not. You're a complete bastard."

Gabriel made no reply, merely holding her. Something wet and sticky dripped onto Audrey's cheek, and she reached up to wipe it away.

"Blood." She said, recognizing the consistency. And when she looked at him, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, she saw that the wound on his face from her fingernails was bleeding. A stab of remorse surprised her – before she could stop herself she reached up and touched the hurt in a motion that could under other circumstances seem almost caressing. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he caught her hand, his eyes emotionless and cold.

"You will lie back again. The injury to your stomach is mortal and must be stitched. I will be as quick and gentle as possible. Be still, if you are able."

Gabriel eased her to the floor once more, allowing her to pillow her head against his thigh as he leaned forward to tend the wound. Audrey was filled with terror. In movies when the doctors did surgery on patients who were awake, they always gave the poor victims something to bite on. Did that help ease the pain? She didn't know.

"Wait. I need something to bite."

He paused for a moment, considering her, then reached down to draw a cruel-looking knife from a sheath on his leg. He placed the leather-covered handle between her teeth, and she bit down as hard as she could. When the needle sank into her swollen flesh, it hurt worse than she'd feared, but it punched straight through and drew the rough thread behind it so quickly that she hardly had time to react. Again and again the same sensation – needle punching through skin, emerging from the other side, pulling the thread tight, needle punching through again. She bit down hard on the knife handle, tasting salt, her sight growing fuzzy around the edges as her body's endorphins kicked in to balance the screaming signals of her tortured nerve endings.

Gabriel put nineteen stitches into her stomach, seven into a cut on her arm, twelve into her right thigh and four into her left before he had finished. When this was done he cleaned the rest of the blood from her with rainwater and gauze pads, then helped her put her arms through the loose cotton gown and pull it over her head. Outside the storm still rumbled and the wind blew, but the fire within had warmed the air to an acceptable level. Audrey lay back, pale and panting and weak atop one of the blankets as he covered her with the second. The folded shreds of her clothing were tucked under her head as a makeshift pillow, and she turned to watch him warily as he prepared to tend his own injuries. He untied the leather straps that held closed his immense breastplate, lifting off the heavy armor and placing it with a tangible thud against the wall. Beneath it he wore a simple padded tunic of soft goatskin, now soaked through with blood. Audrey could not help but notice that he was literally covered in it. His wounds must have been far more extensive than hers. Why didn't he just die, damn it?

Across from her, the archangel was privately wondering the same thing. He unlaced each side of the shirt, pulling the two halves apart and easing them off to expose the full extent of the damage. Slippery muscle glinted deep within the stomach wound he'd taken from Michael's sword. His shoulder had a hole through it, the exit injury on his back pulsing with fire. He had only himself to blame for that. His chest had been protected by the armor. Leaning back, he began to sew closed the horrible stomach wound.

Audrey stared at him, at the ivory perfection of his torso marred by dark streaks of drying blood. He bore the pain of his battle injuries well, not even allowing a gasp to escape from his lips as he stitched himself with the same speed and skill that he'd shown her. His wings, glossy and beautiful, seemed uninjured. Audrey wondered at that, when there were still handfuls of feathers lying nearby from her attack.

"Your wings…" she murmured, and he looked up.

"Yes?"

"They can stop bullets, but I ripped out your feathers?"

"Pinfeathers. They will grow back. No mortal weapon cam harm an angel wing."

"But we can kill you. I mean, we sure as hell did it down there. We fucking killed you all."

For the first time in a very long time, Gabriel felt amusement. The child was both brave and foolish, as most of her kind were at that age.

"You killed human bodies inhabited by angels of the lowest rank and file. Their spirits returned to Heaven the moment the bodies died. Do not indulge in such hubris, child. You and your kind have accomplished nothing. Pulling a few feathers from the wing of a seraph is hardly the same as defeating a worthy foe in single combat. I have injured myself more while putting on armor before a battle even begins."

Audrey couldn't think of anything nasty enough to say in reply. She loathed the smug look in his eyes, the calm tone to his deep voice, as though nothing she said had any weight to it at all.

Hate warmed her. She stopped shivering. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the angel before her turned his attention back to his careful needlework.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Healing

The needle kept slipping, blood lubricating his fingers and making it impossible to hold the tiny shard of metal. There was still a good three inches left to sew closed, but no matter how meticulously he wiped his hands and picked up the needle again, the thick dark blood continually pumped out and made a mess of everything. Audrey watched him with savage glee, enjoying the fact that he was having difficulty.

"I hope you're in pain. I really hope you're suffering, you asshole." She snapped. Gabriel did not look up. He wiped his fingers again, picked up the needle, patiently slid it through his torn flesh. Audrey couldn't believe the fact that he wasn't reacting to anything she said. It was like he was made of stone. She wasn't used to being ignored, damn it! First he tried to kill her, then dragged her out of a wrecked car, then shoved her in this ugly little hole in the mountain and dressed her up like some farm wife, and now he was just sitting there placidly letting her taunt him? The scratches on his face bore testament to her fury, a fury he hadn't even attempted to defend himself from. It was more than enraging…it was insulting. Fuck him. She didn't care if he killed her. She wasn't going to make this weird psychotic game he was playing with her fun, damn him. Now that she knew (or hoped) that he wasn't interested in raping her, she felt nothing but anger and loathing for the big dark angel with the sad eyes.

"God your wings are ugly. You look like a vulture. Angels are supposed to have white wings and halos. Angels are supposed to be dressed in white robes, not Roman kilts or whatever you're wearing. I can't even get taken hostage by a proper angel." She couldn't believe the things she was saying! Was she delirious? Maybe. Her head felt fuzzy and she could tell that her words were slurring slightly. But still she continued hurling insults at him while he sat in silence. "You're supposed to protect people and sing hymns on high during Christmas. And everyone knows you're supposed to be beautiful."

Gabriel paused to wipe the blood away again, not looking at her.

"For a young woman who did not believe in God until last night, you certainly know a great deal about what angels are supposed to be." He said softly.

"For a big ugly monster with a mental problem, you certainly don't fit the picture of a goddamned angel at all." Audrey hissed, meaning every word.

His gaze snapped to her face, expression and posture suddenly as rigid as a cat about to pounce. Audrey felt her breath catch in her throat.

"You will refrain from using blasphemy in my presence." The archangel told her in a low, even voice.

Somehow the softness of his tone was more intimidating than a shout. Terrified as she was, she nevertheless held his gaze and did not look away, defiant to the last.

"Look, I don't know why you saved me and I don't even care. But you might as well either kill me or put me back down there with the rest of the people you hate so much and want to destroy. I would rather die with them than lie here in this stupid cave with you."

"Rest. You will need your strength. I will feed you when you awake, and if you are cold I will fetch more blankets."

"What is wrong with you?! I don't want you to feed me or fetch me anything! I want you to just go the fuck away!"

He picked up the needle again and resumed his attempts. Audrey glared at him, seething, and finally struggled into a sitting position.

"Just finish with that already! Come here and let me do it if you can't! I swear to God this is the worst day of my life!"

Gabriel looked at her mildly, then moved to sit beside her makeshift bed. He folded his wings back and handed her the needle. Audrey tried hard not to look at the tattoos on his chest. She'd been lying before and she knew it. He really was beautiful, just like Michael had been.

"Don't even expect me to be nice to you." She was ruthless, plunging the needle into him with cruel stabs, trying to hurt him even as she clumsily stitched the wound closed. For his part Gabriel did not flinch, though the girl was indeed causing him pain. He watched her work, her head bowed over his side and her long hair brushing against his skin. The thin cotton gown she wore was too big, it had slipped down over one creamy white shoulder. A small powdering of freckles dusted the top of that shoulder.

Gabriel counted nine.

"There, damn it. It's closed. Now lean down so I can do the other one. And don't touch me."

Audrey stitched closed the shoulder wound while Gabriel bore it in silence. When she had finished, she snapped the thread and tied it off.

"I really fucking hate you." She said with finality.

"You use this word a great deal. It is unbecoming." He told her. Audrey could feel the vibration of his deep voice against the hand she'd been compelled to place on his chest to steady herself while she worked.

"I'm not trying to impress you. You killed my family and a whole lot of other people down there for no good reason that I can think of. You could have done the right thing like Michael tried to do before you killed him."

"Michael lives. So does the child, and the woman who bore him, and her companion."

Audrey blinked, surprised. She couldn't believe it.

"You're lying."

"I never lie."

"What happened? Did you get defeated or something? Why are you even still here? Did Michael win? Did he let you live? Is he coming for me?"

Gabriel did not reply, drawing away just as he had when she'd touched his cheek earlier. It was a dismissive gesture, like the firm and resolute closing of a castle gate, and Audrey fell silent. Throughout all of her teenage years her parents had both yelled at her, grounded her, pleaded with her – her mother had even slapped her a few times – in an attempt to change her behavior or even to get her to refrain from backtalk. This man before her could silence her more effectively than they ever had just by changing his posture. It was unnerving.

"Rest. You must heal." He told her, and stood up. God he was huge. Closer to seven feet than six, bigger than anyone she'd ever been in the same room with, and those damn wings certainly didn't help to make him seem less intimidating. She felt very aware of how terribly weak and futile her situation was. He'd already told her that she was his. There was nothing to run back to, anyway. She didn't know anyone in the new place her family had been headed. Maybe if she could find a way to escape and get home again, back to Jessie and Kate and her friends from the neighborhood, or her ex-boyfriend Vick the Marine, she would be safe. Vick could fight this creature off. Maybe.

But as Audrey looked up at Gabriel's still, composed form she was not so certain that Vick could do any better than the others had. It was hopeless.

Her leg hurt like crazy. Her mouth was dry. Her hair was filthy and the innumerable cuts all over her body felt like they were full of stinging ants. She was in a lonely cave with a killer that the whole world feared. Even Michael had seemed to be nervous about him. And after what had happened, she understood why. She remembered her reaction when he'd first stepped through the demolished door of the diner, mace in hand, wings outstretched. Her chest had seemed to fill with ice water and her thoughts turned to gibbering babble in her mind. A heartfelt _'OH SHIT'_ was all she could muster.

Her eyes filled with tears again as she looked at him now. He was too big to fight. Unkillable. Soulless and immobile and omnimalevolent. She wanted her Daddy to come save her and make the nightmares go away…but she knew that there was no Daddy anymore, and she was alone with the nightmare.

"I'm…I'm scared of you." She blurted out, not meaning to be so transparent. So damn vulnerable.

Gabriel looked down at her, his face hidden in shadow. He knew she feared him, of course. She was supposed to look at him with fear and trembling, that was to be expected. But something in her voice sounded small and honest and strangely moving. He was not made of stone, much though he seemed to be at times. Without even really thinking about what he was doing, he knelt down again by her side and took her into his arms. She pushed at him for a moment, then relaxed against the warmth of his skin and the hardness of his arms and the soft sweep of his feathers on her bruised face. It was awful and comforting, to be held like this. She was crying. Crying like a little girl, the way children cry, with no shame or control, just letting the tears flow from her eyes without lifting her exhausted hands to brush them away.

_'…in the arms of the angels, fly away from here. From this dark cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear…'_

"Just stop it." Audrey whispered under her breath, weeping and miserable and confused enough without the added distraction of mushy pop lyrics running through her head. Sarah McLaughlin had obviously never met an angel.

Gabriel held her lightly this time, careful not to twist her leg or crush her arm or cause any further injury. He was not doing it for the sake of love…it was Michael who loved these fragile little talking monkeys, not he. Rather, he felt an odd tenderness beginning to creep insidiously into his rigidly disciplined mind. It was not a familiar or welcome feeling. The girl's head rested against his wounded shoulder, her breath warm on his chest. He could feel her heart beating like a trapped bird's.

"There is no need to be scared, Audrey." He said, more gently than he'd spoken to her ever before.

_'…do not be afraid, Mary, the Lord is with thee…' _The words echoed down to him from some far distant and buried time long ago. Another lifetime.

Audrey wept.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: First Night

An hour passed.

By degrees, the girl was dropping off to sleep in his arms. Her skin heated up, burning with a fever undoubtedly induced by the severity of her injuries. He felt her soul move a little, like a child's loose tooth, and he reacted immediately to still it. The act required only light contact – his lips just barely brushing her forehead in a gesture of benediction, but her eyes opened very slightly the moment she felt him move.

"What are you doing?" she asked drowsily, still somehow managing to sound sharp and mistrustful.

"It is of no concern. Sleep."

"I'm thirsty."

He reached beside them, selected a little cardboard carton of juice from the small pile of supplies, opened it one-handed and held it to her lips. After a moment of choking on the warm orange juice, Audrey drank it down in a few swallows. When she had finished, Gabriel gently wiped the corners of her mouth with his fingertips.

Her eyes closed again, and she leaned against his arm with a sigh.

Another hour. Two. The shadows lengthened outside, and the storm abated. Night was falling fast, and in the distance a lone coyote yipped and barked. The fire died down, but Gabriel could not add wood to it without waking the girl in his arms. He folded a wing over her to keep her warm.

In her fitful dreaming, Audrey was losing all sense of reality. Her skin was on fire. The fever was causing delirium, a dizziness that made her imagine that the whole mountain was moving. Where was she anymore? Who held her?

Wings, feathers. Ah, an angel. Michael held her, of course. He was so protective – he'd pulled her from the fire and saved her life at the risk of his own. And she hadn't even remembered to thank him.

"Thank you…" she murmured, and weakly groped for his hand, found it, twined her fingers through his. "You…you saved me. Thank you, wonderful angel."

Gabriel did not reply. He did not know what to say. Was she thinking clearly? Though he _had_ saved her, he did not for one moment think that it was for this that she thanked him. Her hatred of him was apparent, and he did not judge her harshly for it. She must be dreaming. But the hand that slid beneath his own was small and warm and soft. No woman had ever held his hand before. No woman had ever touched him in a tender fashion at all. It was forbidden. He did not know what to make of the situation now.

"So kind. So brave." Audrey couldn't open her eyes. But it didn't matter. She was safe. She was in the arms of one of the seraphim, the General of the armies of Heaven, the safest place in the world. She was so happy, so at peace, to be here now at the end of all things with him. Falling in love with an angel.

"…love you…" she whispered.

He froze, staring down at her sleeping face. Something inscrutable flashed across his eyes, only to be locked away again an instant later. The fire died out entirely, freezing air stealing into the cave. He could see his breath in the dimness from outside, where the high frozen moon rode the black waves of the night far above them. Audrey shivered, and Gabriel held her closer, protecting her from the chill while she dreamed. His heart ached more fiercely than any of his other injuries, which were already beginning to heal. But the pain did not show in his expression. Touching his hand was one thing. She was dreaming, delirious. But those words – no matter her dream, no matter her state of mind, no matter her feelings or to whom they were directed, (and he suspected that the words were intended for Michael) – the fact remained that the underlying emotion which motivated them hinted at complete heresy.

But the night was deep and dark all around them, a satin veil to hide all deeds and cover all sins. The girl knew nothing. Her skin burned. How easy it would be to simply lie down beside her…

"Enough!" he told himself sharply, and drew a deep breath. Audrey stirred in his arms. Her lips grazed his skin, and he was surprised at how electrifying the sensation was. Alarmingly so. Though he knew the kiss was not intended for him, perhaps not intended at all, it was nevertheless intrinsically jarring. He turned her slightly to her side, away from him, and stared unblinking at the unforgiving stone ceiling of the cave.

What was he doing, keeping her this way? It could only lead to great difficulty and sorrow. Perhaps he should have left her to die in the desert, covered in blood and sand, moaning in pain, ready to depart her broken body and find her parents again in paradise. Perhaps he should have simply flown her to a town or a city, dropped her near people who could help her, and left her there. Or maybe he should just kill her now, mercifully and in her sleep, and guide her soul into the light.

Audrey had not let go of his hand, and he did not pull away. He leaned against the cave wall, pillowed her head on his bicep, and brushed her hair back from her face gently. He had never kidnapped a human before. What would have been the point? They were troublesome and tempting and irritating and most of them were consummate idiots in all matters pertaining to the soul. Humans were aggravating. And this one was a rude, ungrateful little brat who had lived a life of increasing vileness from the age of thirteen. Her language was shocking, her manners were abysmal, her attire was scandalous, and she had a decidedly selective memory. It was Michael, not he, who had shot her mother. It was the lesser angels, not he, who had killed her father. In point of fact, he'd killed no one…not even Michael as it turned out. But the girl blamed him for everything. And he said nothing to change her mind or defend himself. If she needed to cast her loathing upon him for all that had happened, then so be it. His shoulders were broad enough to bear her hatred and then some.

He could feel her breathing. How many men had held her like this? He had effortlessly read the map of her history in her eyes the moment he'd looked into them. More lovers than any girl her age should have had. Some of them were kind. Some were cruel. Some used her. Some were used by her. Most were rotten. All were immoral.

Gabriel held Audrey in a protective embrace, his eyes cold and hard. No man would touch her ever again. Whether he had erred in taking her or not, she was his now. Her body would not be defiled. Her heart would not be toyed with. Her honor would not be compromised. Her life would be spared. And she would live out the rest of her pathetically short days sheltered beneath the shadow of his wings. He would see to that.

What else did he have to live for now?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: The Veterinarian and His Wife

Morning came draped in gray flannel fog, the storm of the previous night having blown itself out completely. Light slithered over the mountains and the sparse green jack pines, the tiny lake nestled against the foothills. It was early, too early even for the sleepy roosters that prowled self-importantly in the dusty little village below to have roused themselves and greeted the day.

Audrey was freezing to death, shivering violently with full-body spasms. She clutched at the oddly textured comforter that lay draped awkwardly over her, desperate to find warmth. If she'd had any strength, she would have called for her parents. Definitely no school today. She couldn't even see, could barely think, her whole body hurt like crazy and her mouth tasted like a dust mop. Oh God, she was really, really sick.

The comforter felt so strange. It was too hard, like a soft blanket covering a steel frame, and quite suddenly it moved beneath her hands. She must be losing it. Oh…the pain. The PAIN!

"Mom." She moaned, "Dad. Please. Somebody…somebody help me." Her voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. She was so weak, so cold.

Gabriel gently disengaged her hands from his wing and pulled her upper body into his lap, laying her down across his thighs and tilting her head back. He pulled back first one, then the other eyelid, observing with concern that her pupils were wildly dilated. He felt her forehead. No moisture. She had stopped sweating, but she was burning hot to the touch. Her entire body shook as though she were immersed in ice water even while her temperature soared to dangerous levels.

The broken leg! Marrow may have seeped into her blood. He had no antibiotics or surgical tools or pints of blood or anything else worth having. But he must find these things or the girl would die. If it wasn't one irritation after another…

He bundled her into the two blankets as tightly as he could and built up the fire again, warming the room. As he struggled into his shirt and armor again, he watched her carefully. No, there would be no rolling into the flames. The girl hardly moved. Nevertheless, he turned her slightly to the wall and set a large stone between her and the fire. Satisfied, Gabriel wasted no more time. With the morning light faintly illuminating his dark wings, he flew once again from the mountain and headed for the little village in the valley.

The green trailer was covered in little dew drops, all the laundry from the night before brought inside and the window shades pulled. A large sheet of plywood was propped firmly against the demolished entrance, but this gave way to his mace just as easily as the door had. He stepped inside, only to be confronted by the gray cat, who sat looking up at him with the same bored expression.

"Howard! Howard, he's back! That thing from last night! Howard! Howard come quick!" a woman's voice suddenly screamed, and Gabriel looked up in time to see the elderly wife shuffling toward him from the kitchen to his right, a frying pan in her hands. Her white hair was wrapped in pink curlers, and she wore a faded blue bathrobe over a long pink nightgown. From the left, with amazing agility for one so old, the man came running, pulling up his suspenders. For a moment, the three figures in the room simply looked at one another. Gabriel's wings quivered once in agitation, and his fingers tightened on the mace.

"Tell me where the healer for your village lives." He told them.

The old woman clutched the heavy iron skillet to her chest, shock plain on her face. The old man, Howard, held up his hands in supplication. And then he addressed the archangel directly, in the same soothing tone he'd used during his long life with angry bulls and ornery horses and bill collectors.

"Now, now, young man. Let's just settle down here. You gave Millie and me quite a start last night, coming in here like that. Folks round here is used to knockin' before enterin', you know what I mean? I think before we go any further you need to just simmer down and start explaining a few things."

Gabriel was not Michael. He did not feel the need to explain anything. Ever.

"The village doctor. Now."

"Closest hospital is ninety miles away in Lone Pine. Folks round here don't truck much with no fancy ambulances unless they have to. We settle ourselves here." Howard told him. The old woman, Millie, seemed unable to speak after her outburst.

"How do you care for yourselves? Who performs this task?" Gabriel demanded.

"Well, to be honest young man, I do my part. Been a veterinarian for going on sixty years. I take care of most everybody's critters round these parts, and when some kid busts his leg falling out of an apple tree or some damn fool cuts his arm up on a ban saw I know how to set 'em to rights pretty quick. But none of my things is here, see. All at the clinic up the center of town there."

The angel surveyed him, reading the old man's past in his clear green eyes and finding that he spoke the truth. A long history of healing lay there, the days of his youth spent on his hands and knees in the straw next to injured cows, dogs caught in beaver traps, birds with broken wings brought to him by little children. A wealth of kindness and strength and compassion lay beneath his placid exterior, and a deep and abiding goodness that Gabriel immediately found favor with. He nodded, once, shortly.

"We will go to this clinic and fetch your healing supplies."

"Now hang on there, young fella. People here been through some funny things past few days. Lot of people gone missing, some of 'em turned into something else, they was so sick. I think you might have a better idea of what I'm talking about than we do. Some kind of brain fever maybe. But the point is, we can't walk through town with you and those big wings, people'd start with the 'end times' hooey and we don't need no more of that," Howard said shrewdly, " Now, if you need my help, well, I think I can give it. No need to say what you are. I knew it just as soon as I saw you last night. Started praying right away, didn't I Millie? Lord be praised, I been waiting my whole life for an angel to come and appear to me. Almost went to school for preachin' just like my daddy did. Got six Bibles here, all of 'em read to pieces and underlined like you wouldn't believe. What's your name, young man?"

"I am Gabriel."

"That a common name among your kind, by any chance?"

"No. I am the only one."

Howard covered his heart with his hand, a broad smile crossing his features. Millie gasped.

"Ah, there it is then. For real and true. You're the one what came to our dear Virgin and told her about the little baby she was to have and all that. Oh Lord, that I should live to see this day. Well now Gabriel, you just sit down there on that sofa and get comfortable and let Millie make you some tea. I'll run to the clinic and get my visiting bag. You look to be hurt pretty bad. Been fighting something big, have you?"

"I require no healing. There is a girl. Her leg is broken and she is delirious with fever. She is not sweating. I am afraid –" Gabriel stopped short. He had never uttered those words before. Why should he be afraid of anything?

Angels did not fear. Angels caused _others_ to fear.

Howard nodded and finished pulling up his suspenders. He took an old plaid jacket from its place by the shattered door and pulled it on.

"Don't you be scared, son. Girls are pretty durable. I'll be back in just a few. Sounds like your young lady just needs some penicillin, a cast, some painkillers. I got all that for ya. Have Millie here put together some things for the girl. Don't you mind Pete none, he's just old. Won't hurt you at all. But don't you be petting his belly or he'll scratch. Millie, keep my coffee warm. I'll be back afore too long." He said, and stepped through the hole.

Millie and Gabriel looked at one another. He could see that she was a kind woman, a bit shy, humble and simple and honest. She had been with Howard for all of her life, even knowing him and loving him when they were children. She'd been unnerved the night before, and she was unnerved now, but she was not pushed to the point of insanity by fear. She had a core of strength in her that kept her from losing her head under any circumstances.

He glanced at the frying pan in her hands.

"Do you intend to use that?" he asked. Millie looked down at it in wonder. She didn't even remember picking it up. The archangel still held his mace in one hand, and her eyes flicked to the cruel-looking weapon.

"Are…are you gonna use _that_?" she squeaked in a small voice.

"I suppose not." Gabriel said, and set it on the floor by the doorway. This seemed to mollify the old woman, and she placed her frying pan on the table. Smoothing her robe down with both hands, she licked her dry lips and sighed.

"Well then, that settles it. Come sit, please. You're pretty tall for this place."

Gabriel hesitated, then stiffly lowered himself to sit on the edge of the couch, his whole posture indicative of coiled action ready to unleash should the need arise. Millie began to fill the kettle.

"What do you like in your tea?"

"I neither eat nor drink. Do not trouble yourself."

"Ok then. Your young lady friend, what do you think she'd like?"

"She cannot eat yet, she is unconscious. But she is cold and the floor is hard. Your gown does not fit her well. She will require better garments and softer blankets."

"I got an old bedroll from when Howard and I used to go camping. And sleeping bags. And I could put some of our daughter's clothes in a sack for you. She's living in Arizona now and don't come around here much. Got kids of her own, you see."

"That will be acceptable." Gabriel answered. Millie, glad to have a reason to leave the presence of the stern-looking seraph, immediately went down the hall of the trailer to gather the requested items.

Pete the cat jumped up onto the sofa next to him, pawing at a feather. Gabriel ignored him for a moment, then reached over and patted his head. The cat, purring, rubbed against his side.

Long, excruciating minutes passed with only the ticking of the clock on the wall, the purring of the cat beside him, the faint rustling sounds of Millie in the back bedroom. A beam of sunlight came through the doorway, illuminating the ragged hole he'd left in the plywood. He stood up, moving Pete the cat aside (careful to avoid squeezing his tummy), and inspected the wreckage. There was no saving this section, but the piece they'd used was huge and had much more to spare, propped against the wall by a coffee table and a heavy chair. He picked up his mace again, extended a blade, drew a line down the shattered half of the board, and snapped it cleanly in two with his bare hands. The shattered bit he tossed casually out into the yard, then set about removing the underlying door from its frame. It took almost no effort to lift and break the heavy wood and metal, prying loose the hinges without benefit of tools.

His hands, his body, his entire being were made to be incredibly strong and tireless. All the better for use in the Creator's service.

Within less than half an hour, he'd stripped the old door, snapped the new door into the right size and shape, and affixed the hinges to its sides by pushing the nails in as easily as tacks into cork-board. And the door was finished. No lock, of course. And no handle. But it opened and closed well enough, and the rest would be fairly simple for the old man to repair. It was a first for the angel, this putting right of something he'd broken. He paid the thought no attention, preferring to simply do this task rather than focus on the passage of precious time.

But the fact remained that it was something out of character, something that his brother Michael would have approved of, had he been there to witness it.

Millie came out of the back bedrooms, a large bundle in her hands. She saw what he'd done and nodded her unsmiling approval.

"Got it right in there, did you? It fits a treat. You did well, I'm mighty grateful. Took the both of us to fit that old board over the door, but the way it gets cold here at night we couldn't just let it be. And those coyotes come round looking for food some nights. Wouldn't want poor old Pete to wind up in the belly of one of them scavengers. Now I got here some clothes, socks, some shoes and lady's underthings, more blankets and the bedroll, sleeping bags and a couple a pillows so's she can rest her head. Where you keeping her?"

Gabriel saw no need to tell her, but he did so anyway.

"In a cave."

"A cave! Land sakes, young man! And her being wounded and all! You get her stable so she can be moved and you just bring her down one of these nights. Howard's got an old barn house on the outskirts, built a hundred years ago and solid as a rock. Got a loft and everything. He and I turned it into a proper home long time back but we can't handle the stairs no more. Still there. No one goes out that way much, nothing there to go for. Better than a cave!"

He said nothing. A barn, no matter how 'rock-solid' it was, would not suffice to keep Audrey properly protected. Nothing on level ground would do. Besides, she might attempt to escape him there. Better to keep her where she would be safe…and away from all others.

Howard returned after another ten minutes, bearing a battered black case filled with medical supplies. He seemed deeply pleased with the door, though he said little. He put the valise into the archangel's hands, looking up at him with a smile.

"You want me to come have a look at the girl?"

"That will not be necessary."

"You change your mind, come on back," Howard told him, patting his arm, "But next time, ya mind knocking?"

Gabriel nodded almost imperceptibly and slipped outside. The old couple followed him. A single beat of his wings launched him high above their heads, another beat and he vanished into the low clouds, bound again for the place where Audrey lay in blazing unconsciousness next to a dying fire.

Howard put an arm around Millie's shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze.

"Can you believe it, Mill? An angel, an honest to God angel! Just like the Hallmark Channel!"

Millie watched the place where the seraph had vanished. Her clear eyes had taken in his stiff demeanor and disconcertingly steady gaze, his silence and his handsome young face that never smiled. She saw the things there that Howard, in his delight, did not see...or at least did not know he saw.

"He seems terribly sad." was all she said, and together the veterinarian and his wife turned and went back into their little green trailer.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Blasphemy

She was still alive when he returned, breathing shallow and fast, her entire body burning with unnatural heat. The fire had warmed the cave, but she shivered with such powerful convulsions that it seemed her back would break. Immediately, he knelt beside her and turned her onto her back, opening the bundle.

The sleeping bag and bedroll he spread out beside her, and as gently as possible he moved the girl's trembling form onto it, covering her with the blankets and adding another. The pillows he tucked beneath her head, spreading her beautiful tangled hair out across the white clean white fabric of the pillowcase. No angel who saw him now would believe their eyes. Had he spared a thought to the situation, he himself would not have believed that his hands could be so gentle, his movements so careful, his attention so focused on one frail little human. Not for two thousand years. Not since Mary, the cold desert night, the lowing of the cows and the restless shifting of the donkey. But now, in this new desert, with this new girl, in a new era of uncertain apocalyptic doom, he touched Audrey's body as though she were made of spun glass.

He removed the splint, inspecting the injured leg with great care. It was not overly swollen, certainly not more than was to be expected. But he nevertheless administered a dose of the penicillin that the veterinarian had given him to rid her body of any infections. When this was done, he straightened her leg again and wrapped it in a foam and fabric cast from the bag. His work was quick, efficient, utilitarian. His expression never changed, and Audrey was deathly still as he turned her this way and that to reach all of her injuries. Several of the sutures were swollen and developing infection, and he placed cotton pads soaked with disinfectant over them, bandaging them in place with extra rolls of gauze.

An hour passed in quiet diligence. The light grew outside, illuminating the walls nearest the entrance only slightly. He could not see the sky, of course. That was one of the reasons he'd chosen this place rather than another. To keep the girl warm and protected from the wind and the rain it had been necessary to locate the kind of cave with a curved passage rather than a simple hollow in the cliff face. Lamps would have to be brought eventually, but for now he worked in the dim light with ease. An angel's eyes could see in the dark, could penetrate through even the pitch black of midnight if necessary. His hands moved across Audrey's body easily, exploring every wound and bringing healing with every movement. When he had finished, he gently removed the blood from her white skin with a damp cloth, taking extra care to clean her face. He wiped away her smeared eye makeup and the gaudy red lipstick, the pink blush, every trace of unnatural color that she wore to conceal her true self. When her face was as clean as morning rain, he sat back and simply looked down at her for a little while.

Seventeen. Seventeen years old and already shockingly experienced in a variety of unsavory behaviors. She had lost her virginity underneath the bleachers at a junior high football game only four years previously. She'd been high at the time, the drugs making her dizzy and giddy, and she'd willingly lain down with some faceless older boy. He'd brought a friend with him. The two boys had taken turns, while Audrey giggled and moaned and sometimes cried a little…

Gabriel's right hand clenched into a fist, and he felt a riptide of pure holy wrath blaze through his chest. He suddenly wanted very much to find those boys, to feel their bones crunch beneath his mace, their hot salty blood spatter his wings, his face, his arms. He wanted to bathe in it, to revel in the purity of their extermination. Destroy, as he was born to do.

"…_And the Lord sent an angel who destroyed every mighty warrior, commander and officer in the camp of the king of Assyria…"_

After a moment, the black need passed, and he touched her forehead. Audrey's soul lay still and quiet within her, held in place by the will of the angel, awaiting the stabilization of her body to properly contain it once again.

So passed the day. And the night. And the day again. Four days, four nights, then more.

Every few hours he would bathe her forehead, cooling her burning flesh. He brought snow from the top of the mountain, fresh boughs of balsam to scent and purify the air, wood for the fire. He changed her clothing and bathed her, cleansing the waste from her body without flinching, taking the bedroll partway down the mountain to a little pond he'd found to wash it. He warmed soup over the fire, trickling it into her mouth a few drops at a time, stroking her throat with his strong fingers to help her swallow.

Audrey knew nothing during this time, so far gone into the numb frozen landscape between life and death that she could barely feel her own body or even the passage of time. She would have been mortified to know that the angel she hated so much was washing her, dressing her, feeding her, cleaning the urine from her legs when she wet herself, sitting beside her every moment without rest. It would have enraged her. But the unconsciousness was a deep, still pond that she floated in, not knowing anything at all of the world above the waters.

He left her side only a few times a day, to retrieve supplies and to visit the valley again. By this time the old couple in the green trailer had grown used to his sudden arrivals and departures, and they no longer seemed afraid of him. Howard brought medicine from his clinic. Millie traded soiled clothes for clean ones and found a few glass oil lamps to light the cave. They were kind and eager to help, and Gabriel found himself growing ever more at ease in their presence, though he still said very little. He came only in the early hours of the dawn or late at night.

On the sixth day, as Gabriel pulled a warm sock over her right foot, Audrey's eyelids fluttered for the first time in days. She coughed, turned her head to one side, and he caught a glint of the lamplight on her brow. A wet sheen covered her face. She was sweating. Her fever had broken.

He moved to cradle her head in his lap at once, bathing away the precious moisture with a clean cloth. His eyes stung, and he swallowed hard to fight down a feeling of almost overpowering relief. He had long since ceased wondering why he cared about this obnoxious little human so much. The only truth that remained was that he did. He knew that he cared for Audrey, cared whether she lived or died and whether she was in pain or not. He stroked her hair back from her forehead and looked down at her as she opened her eyes and stared into his for a moment.

"Where…where am I?" she asked weakly, her lips dry and her words coming out scratchy. He held a bottle of water to her lips, and she drank thirstily. God, he looked so familiar. Did she know him? Was that a rock ceiling behind him? What the hell?

Then, in a flash, it all came back to her.

"Oh God, oh no. I hoped this was a dream." She whispered.

"It is not."

"What happened to me? Are we still in the cave? Where did all this stuff come from?" For she had glanced around and beheld green branches wedged into corners, warm lamps glowing in every alcove, a bright blanket hanging across the entrance, a pile of boxes and medical equipment by the wall, a stack of folded laundry. What was this?

"You had a fever and almost died. We are still in the cave. I brought these things to provide you comfort."

She stared at him, feeling weak and surprised.

"I almost died?! But I'm not dead, am I?"

Gabriel shook his head, expressionless.

"Then…then did you do something to help me?"

He nodded.

"What did you do?"

"Your broken leg has been re-set and your wounds stitched closed with fresh sutures. You needed penicillin and other medicines, and they have been administered. You have recently been injected with painkillers. And you have been fed and bathed daily, and covered against the cold. That is all." He did not say 'I did this' or 'I did that', preferring to distance himself from the mercies he had performed, though why he kept this wall between them he couldn't explain even to himself.

She was shocked. Stunned. Baffled as to why he would do this. Didn't he want her dead? Didn't he want them _all_ dead? What the hell was he playing at? She struggled to sit up a little, and he shifted her back onto the bedroll, tucking another pillow behind her head. She couldn't take her eyes from his face. He didn't look any kinder…still the same expression, the same stern demeanor. But he had cared for her?

"Why?" she asked, genuinely mystified. Gabriel did not look away, nor did he reply. That pale gaze disturbed her to the very core of her being the way a full moon disturbed the tides, and perhaps for the same reason. His personal gravity was astounding. No man she'd ever met in her entire life had ever looked at her like that. She didn't think she could have survived it if they had. Distant, frozen, achingly familiar, pale, cold…his eyes reminded her of the moon in so many ways.

Audrey groaned inwardly, disgusted with herself. Had she seriously just compared this bastard's eyes to the moon?

"Did God make you save me or something?" she asked derisively.

"No."

"Did Michael?"

"No."

"But you saved my life."

"I found it to be worth saving, despite your past."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

The archangel leaned down ever so slightly, tilting his head in a way she found irritatingly attractive. Damn him for being what he was. And damn God for making him that way. And for abandoning her. And for everything else.

"You have led an exceedingly immoral life, Audrey. But it is behind you. Never again will you have the opportunity to behave in such a way, nor will anyone have the chance to tempt you, mislead you, harm you or use you. I will not allow it."

Audrey couldn't reply to this. She felt embarassed. But a little warmth spread through her, the warmth of gratitude. He'd saved her! The why could wait, the how could wait, the hatred could wait…she was alive! She reached up and put her hand on his muscled arm. It was an immense effort, but she managed to sit up. And then, without even really thinking about what she was doing, she pulled him towards her and kissed his cheek, hard, her other hand moving to touch his dark hair. Then, wearied by the strain of the movement, she reclined on one elbow and smiled up at him.

"Thank you. " she said simply. He drew back slowly, shock plain on his face, his eyes wide. She hadn't seen him display this much emotion since her rescue, and it made her a little nervous. Had she crossed a line or something? God he smelled good.

_'Knock it off.' _She told herself, suddenly very aware of his closeness, the warmth of his body, how the firelight softened his features and made him look almost kind…for a moment. Then the moment passed, and she reminded herself that it was only her weakened state, the drowsy comfort of the painkillers, the fact that she had no one left in the world now except this asshole. It wasn't tenderness. She didn't even like him. But she left her hand on his arm, and he did not pull away from her touch.

Gabriel couldn't believe what she'd done. His cheek tingled. Nothing had ever felt quite like it, not in four billion years. His chest felt too small for his heart all at once, and the sensation troubled him. He put one large, warm hand on her shoulder and squeezed slightly, reassuringly.

"It was not difficult. You do not need to thank me."

Audrey lay back against the pillows, feeling stronger than she had in a while. What was this? None of it made any sense. Why wasn't she being attacked? Did he still have some darker, more sinister plan for her, was that why he kept her alive?

"What are you going to do with me, Gabriel?" she asked. It was the first time he'd heard her speak his name, and the thrill of the sound made him suddenly very grateful that he'd been given these three syllables that her voice, wary and aggravated as it was, turned into poetry.

"I plan to keep you."

"Keep me? You can't keep a person!"

"I think you will find that I can."

"This is bullshit. I'm not your prisoner and I'm not your pet. You saved me and I'm grateful, but as soon as I can get out of here, I'm going to."

He almost smiled.

"We are almost eight hundred feet above level ground. There are no paths, no rocky outcroppings to climb. The only way down is through the air," now he really did smile, quickly, a flash of even white teeth that would have melted her heart if she wasn't currently absorbed with hating every cell in his body, "…and only one of us has wings."

Audrey closed her eyes, dropping her hand from his arm in defeat. He squeezed her shoulder again.

"I would never call you a prisoner or a pet. But you will remain here nonetheless. And no human shall ever look upon you or defile you again."

"So you're all I'll ever see for the rest of my life."

Gabriel stood up, stretched his wings slightly, and picked up his mace. Audrey watched him without really caring what he was about to do. She wanted to die.

"You will have distractions. I understand that humans become bored easily. I will go now and find books for you. It is not right that you rarely read."

"Fine, damn it." Audrey snapped, rolling toward the wall and turning her back on him, "Anything but the fucking Bible."

"Language." Gabriel warned, and was gone.

Audrey spent the next hour fantasizing about ways to kill him

…and trying not to lick her lips, which still tasted deliciously of his skin.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Temptation

It was well past nightfall when he returned, bearing a heavy bag filled with books of every shape and size, which he lay at her feet like an offering.

Audrey listlessly pawed through them while he removed his armor and began to clean it by the lamplight. Earth science, ancient Greek poetry, some British classics, a few heavy college textbooks, mathematics, a huge selection of philosophy, and one religious tome: C.S. Lewis's "Miracles". The Iliad and The Odyssey. A book on astronomy that was filled with confusing charts and graphs. These weren't books for casual amusement. These were torture devices. She looked up at him, puzzled.

"What's all this crap? Did you go out of your way to find the worst books you could? Is this all part of your sinister plan to drive me crazy up here in this hellhole?"

"Hell is not in a hole," he corrected, pressing a dent out of the heavy metal breastplate, "Hell is a series of connected lowlands surrounded by a mountain range."

"It's just an expression, smartass. I hate these books."

"You will change your mind."

She glared at him, and impulsively threw a philosophy textbook as hard as she could, aiming for his head. He lightly lifted a wing and deflected the blow, then picked up the book and carried it back to her. Taking one of her wrists in a firm grip, he placed her hand on the cover of the text.

"Philosophy is the foundation of all knowledge. You will treat it with respect."

"My hand isn't the foundation of all knowledge, guess I'll use that instead." She growled, an angry kitten, and raised her free hand to strike him. This time he did not simply take the blow. He caught that wrist as well, and held her now completely immobile. Audrey struggled futilely against him, drawing her good knee under her for leverage, but she could not break his iron grip. He looked down at her placidly.

"You wish the rest of your life to be a pitched battle with me, child?"

"I wish you would let me go!"

"And I have said that I will not."

"Then prepare to be slapped and bitten and attacked every day, because I sure as hell don't want to be trapped in here with you! This is no way to live, hidden in some cave like…like a…like a BAT!"

"There is nothing that you can do to change your situation."

Audrey remembered the look on his face when she'd kissed his cheek, the way he had seemed almost frightened. He had recoiled from her. Was this the reason he had not violated her the way any human man would have by now? Was there some kind of death warrant out for angels who messed around with humans? Wasn't there something from the Bible, something about angels mating with humans right before the Flood and making half-angel children and that enraging God so much that He got all pissed and gave the world a wetting like it had never seen before?

She went completely still, relaxed her muscles, and a slow wicked smile spread across her beautiful features. Gabriel observed her carefully, suddenly uncomfortable.

"So you want to keep me here for yourself?" Audrey purred invitingly. She leaned into him, making sure that her breasts brushed against the fabric of his shirt, against the hard chest beneath. "Is that it? Here where nobody can bother us? Why don't you just admit it? Haven't you ever been with a girl before, big guy? I'm guessing you haven't."

Gabriel flinched and released her, withdrawing immediately as though stung.

"You will stop that _at once_. What you suggest is forbidden. I have no desire to condemn us both. You will remain here for your safety, Audrey, not for my pleasure." His voice was tight, angry, reprimanding. He stumbled over the word 'pleasure'…it was slight, very subtle. But the faltering tone was there. She'd struck a deep nerve. His breathing had quickened, his eyes were stormy, every movement described intense agitation.

_'Bull's-eye_.' Audrey thought, and rubbed her wrist where he'd gripped her a little too hard. She had a weapon now too, one she knew quite well how to use despite her young age. He had a mace, wings, superhuman strength, immortality. But she had the same weapon that Delilah had, that Jezebel had, that Salome had. How many powerful men were taken down throughout the long ages by the wiles of a woman? Millions, that's how many. She put all of her hate into a sly little smile, locking eyes with him as she carefully arranged her long legs on the blanket again, crossing her good leg over the cast and making certain that the cotton gown slid up her thigh slightly.

"So God sent a virgin to a Virgin, is that what happened? Talk about the blind leading the –"

"You will not speak ill of Mary."

"Mary, is it? Not 'The Anointed One' or something like that? You two got pretty intimate, didn't you?"

"NO."

"Too bad. Would you like me to show you what you've been missing? Come here."

She was being cruel and she knew it. A part of her felt sick at her behavior, after all he'd done to help her. It was mean-spirited and vicious to taunt him But then she remembered Jeep on the floor, holding the baby, and the horrible crash of the mace through the floorboards. Her guilt pang subsided, and she beckoned to him with malicious invitation. The Serpent in the Garden, holding out a shiny apple to the wide-eyed naïf.

His wings twitched in annoyance, like a resting raven disturbed by a tossed pebble. She had disturbed him deeply, she could tell. And she was _glad_ she had. Abruptly he turned and left the cave. Audrey had a hard time keeping herself from laughing until she was sure he'd gone.

* * *

He did not go to the valley. He did not fly out into the desert, either. Straight up, ascending above the level of the clouds, beating his wings through thick fog that blinded him and wet him to the skin. He'd left his armor behind. He'd left his mace. Even his knife was back there in the cave, not that he needed these things for protection. His heart was filled to capacity with sorrow, with agony, with rage. The craggy peak of the mountain rose before him, and he landed atop its gleaming snow-covered surface in the sparkling cold light of a million stars. Misery made him wretched, a lone seraph on his knees under the stars, his head bowed. The girl's words, her brazen and vile invitation to partake of sin, and worst of all the wounded spirit that shone in her eyes while she did it…it was too almost much to bear. _'Take me, go ahead,' _those eyes seemed to be saying, _'Everyone else has. Go on, just do it. Hurt me.'_

He'd been tempted, of course. Only a fool or a catamite would have failed to be tempted. Every atom in his body desired her, wanted to take her into his arms and smooth away the thin cotton dress and feel her slim naked form against his skin. He wanted more than he could express to hear her gasp of mixed pleasure and pain as he took her, to taste the forbidden honey of her lips, her tongue, to feel the heat in her blood rise and her heart beat faster, to kiss away her tears with the unspoken promise that they would never again spill from her eyes save in joy.

That was why he'd had to leave, had to get out of the warm dark immediately and seek refuge and resolve on the frozen purity of the mountain's crest. To touch her would have been spiritual suicide, damning them both to the fullness of God's wrath. Perhaps he had already gone too far.

Gabriel did not move for a long time, one hand covering his eyes. When he finally raised his face to the heavens again, he was surprised to find that he was no longer alone.

Michael, immaculate and armor-clad, stood before him.

"You have not returned to the Throne. Why?" he asked gently.

He instantly got to his feet, wiping away the foolish tears of weakness and self-condemnation that stained his white cheeks. His brother waited for him to compose himself, patient, his face kind. Gabriel looked upon with a mixture of loathing and resignation. He loved his brother, of course. But what had happened between them a mere two weeks previously, when Michael had spared his life and he'd responded only that he would not have done the same, was still a fresh wound on his heart.

"I had thought that I was in disfavor."

"You know better than that, Gabriel."

"I do not wish to return yet."

"Seeing you in pain hurts my spirit, brother. I am truly sorry that events have unfolded in this way. Come home." He held out his hand.

Gabriel shook his head.

"In time. But not now. I have a task to perform. The girl, Audrey, the one you pulled from the burning car. Do you remember?"

Michael nodded. He recalled her strength during the birth of Charlie's child, the bravery she'd shown in rushing out to save Kyle. An astonishing young woman.

"What became of her?"

"I attacked the car, there was a terrible crash. When I returned to the site after our…conversation…I found her still alive, but barely. I brought her to a cave some distance below us. The girl is healing from her injuries there now. It is because of this, Michael, that I am troubled."

They had always been honest. Angels, especially archangels, were incapable of deceiving one another. The thought had never even crossed either one of their minds.

Michael looked out over the starry landscape, the rolling clouds that looked like a misty gray sea, solid enough to row a boat across. _Hallelujah._

"You are troubled because she is injured, or because you saved her?"

"Both."

"Why did you not bring her to her own kind and be done with the matter? It is not right to keep her in this way."

"You are in no position to teach me what is right and what is wrong, Michael. Do not begin to describe to me the direction in which your broken moral compass points. I will do as I see fit."

Michael sighed, knowing that argument would be futile. He had never argued successfully with Gabriel. As similar as they were in mind, in purpose, in body, in soul…they differed so greatly in heart that it was like comparing east with west, fire with ice, mercy with duty.

They stood in silence for a time, watching the full moon slide up from the sea of clouds before them.

"Where is your armor? Your weapon?"

"Below, in the cave."

"It is unwise to travel unprotected. Remember what He has always told us."

"I fear no demonic attack. Let them come."

Michael laid a hand on his shoulder, turning him round to look him full in the eyes.

"I have not seen you weep in three thousand years, and yet there are tears in your eyes."

"I wept when I killed you, Michael."

"Tell me what hurts you, and I will remove its sting from your heart."

"When I have need of _your_ help, I will ask for it. You'd best return to Him, 'Favored One'. I shall come to the Throne when I am summoned, as always. But for now my time is my own to spend."

The other angel looked at the ground between them, leaning his forehead against his brother's and closing his eyes. Both of them hurting, both of them unable to feel hatred no matter how deeply divided they had become.

"As you wish, Gabriel. If you do ask for my help, you know that it will be given. You are my brother."

Gabriel stepped back from him and looked away. A soft rush of wings heralded the General's departure, leaving his brooding counterpart feeling even more desolate than before.

He sat down again on a rock, facing the moon and staring at its pale white face with unblinking intensity. It was beautiful, gleaming bright and pure and serene despite its craters and scars. A lit vessel of beauty whose flaws only increased the loveliness.

His mind turned to Audrey, her bare shoulder exposed in the firelight as she savagely stitched closed the wound in his side.

"Nine freckles…" he whispered.

The archangel did not move again throughout the long, cold night.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Mercy

Audrey anticipated his return before dawn, and when he did not reappear at the first indication of growing light she began to feel a slight worry pinch her stomach. Not that she cared about him, she told herself. But without the archangel she was in trouble. He'd already said that there was no way down into the valley from here. She would need food, water, warmth. She couldn't get these things for herself, and the supplies that were already here in the cave wouldn't last more than a few days.

She dragged herself over to the blanket that hung across the tunnel entrance, pushed it aside, and made her way slowly down the curved passage. He'd not bothered to set oil lamps into the alcoves here, and only the wan light from behind her and the dim cold light from outside guided her around the sharp turns. Her broken leg, encased in a rigid cast, was far too tender to put weight on. It stuck out awkwardly as she pushed herself up against the wall on her one good leg. Limping, hopping, steadying herself against the chilled stone, she moved to the very mouth of the cave to see just how bad her situation was.

It was bad.

The valley lay spread out before her, so far away that she couldn't even make out the lines of a highway or the shape of individual houses. A little smudge of color on the dusky floor of the distant plain and a few dots of light told her where the village was, but that was all. She clutched at the wall beside her, feeling sick. She'd never been a big fan of heights. Immense, towering, so far away that it hardly seemed real. He'd been right, of course. Only a creature with wings could get up or down from this place. Audrey slumped to the floor and sat there, leaning her head against the cold stone, not even caring how chilly and wet the air was or how damp her clothes were getting from the misty morning air.

"Mom." She whispered. She hugged her one good knee to her chest and set her chin atop it, looking out at the valley. For the better part of her life, Audrey had broken her mother's heart. A litany of failures passed before her eyes one at a time, each one opening a tiny cut somewhere inside her chest and making her feel less and less like taking even one more breath.

Her mom's face when she was busted for shoplifting at the age of twelve. They'd been at a department store…she'd pocketed some lipstick and the clerk freaked out. The police were called and everything. Through it all her mother had stood by, humiliated and angry, while Audrey pouted and made flippant remarks.

Her mother, walking in unannounced while Audrey and Katie were smoking pot in the garage. She'd looked so dumbstruck, so unhappy, so damn _disappointed_

The parents both out, supposedly until midnight, Audrey on the back porch letting the neighbor boys feel her up under the sick yellow glow of the bug light. But mom and dad came home early. They'd both walked up from the garage, her father's enraged shout and her mother's anguished '_I can't take it anymore, damn it!'_ ringing in her ears as the neighbor boys fled over the hedge.

Audrey had been a disappointment to her wealthy father, but they'd never been particularly close anyway. Her mother, though, there was a time when they were extremely close. Back in those hazy golden days before she hit puberty, when she was a sweet little kid with big front teeth and messy hair who refused to wear dresses and who brought home wildflowers all summer to put on mom's breakfast plate. Where was that little girl? Was this the same girl who sat here now, on this damn freezing ledge with a broken leg and no parents , who had just alienated and insulted the only person she had left in the world who might show her mercy?

Dad was dead. Gone. No more one-armed hugs, no more sage advice, no more sarcastic comments or new bikes for her birthday or handfuls of twenties when she was about to go to the mall with her friends. Mom was dead. No more air kisses and giggling over the latest celebrity gossip (Who's the sexiest character on _Lost_? Is Brad still flirting with Jen? What the heck is up with Madonna's plastic skin?). No more fashion advice, no more warm lap to throw herself into when some asshole had dumped her yet again after getting what he wanted. Her parents had given up their comfortable house and their friends and their lives to take her somewhere new and start over away from all the influences that were ripping their little girl away from them before their eyes. And now what? Now they lay in unmarked heaps of bone and gristle somewhere down there, down there and away over the desert.

She wanted to join them. Audrey didn't want to turn and inch-worm her way back to the little camp behind her. She was sick of the oil lamps and the scratchy blankets and the cotton dresses and the fucking pine boughs. She was damn sick of the food, too. And she was sick of _him._ What could he possibly understand about pain, about loss? He was going to live forever! He was going to live and live and live and everyone he cared about was going to live too…if he even cared about anyone besides himself, that was. His family were all angels. His father was God. He was a total asshole who wanted to keep her like a hamster and who couldn't figure out what to do with her now that he had her. Audrey felt exhausted, weary to the center of her being.

Without another thought, she pushed herself off of the cliff and closed her eyes.

* * *

Gabriel saw her, of course. Not long after moonset he'd flown down the mountain again and perched near enough to the cave entrance to keep watch, but not so near that he felt tempted to go inside. His resolve was not prepared for the ordeal of her nearness just yet, and certainly his body was not. Lest his passions betray him, he remained like a stone sentinel some way above the entrance, dark wings and dark hair and dark clothing blending into the rock behind him so perfectly that even an eagle who soared past did not turn its keen eyes to survey the silent angel less than ten feet away.

When Audrey crawled to the cave mouth, he shifted position and watched her, watched the wretchedness of her posture and guessed at the keen ache that inspired it. He folded his wings back, preparing for what he had seen a thousand times in those who moved and sat and sighed and wept in such a way. It was child's play to dive, to ride the air currents and catch her as easily as a falling leaf in his strong arms the moment she threw herself into the nothingness. She did not cry out or strike at him, nor did she seem surprised at all.

"I knew you wouldn't let it be this easy, you demon." Audrey moaned against his neck as he pulled her to him. He landed on the narrow edge of the little path that led to the pond he'd found earlier, unwilling to release her just yet.

He said nothing. She said nothing. The great canyon that yawned wide and desolate between the two of them seemed wider than ever…a mortal full of pain and wanting to die, an angel holding her limp body, unwilling to let her go. He felt his anger and annoyance at her melt away in a rush of pity for the fragile young girl in his arms, her flesh chilled by the mist and her body bruised and injured beyond belief, her whole family gone and her past a festering wound that still continued to poison her. He looked down at her, his entire countenance relaxing into an expression of sorrow.

"Audrey, I see everything that you have endured. I know even the darkest secrets that you seek to hide from me." he admitted. Audrey didn't care anymore. She looked mutely up at him and watched the way the light shone in his dark hair, picking out the blue-black highlights, and how it made his pale skin look like alabaster. His beauty wasn't obvious, it wasn't a slap in the face the way she'd always thought an angel's attractiveness would be. He wasn't unearthly. Well, nothing but the eyes. Still, he had a nice face. Audrey didn't have the strength to hate him right now. She didn't have the strength to taunt him or hurt him or slap him or bite him or fight him. Hell, she didn't even feel anything anymore. She looked past him, to the growing blue light in the curved vault of the sky, already so far away in spirit and heart that she hardly felt his arms around her or his heart beating against her shoulder.

"I don't even care, Gabriel. I want to be with Mom and Dad. Please just let me go to Heaven. I know I was bad. Can't you still get me there somehow? Can you listen to my confession or something?"

Gabriel sank to his knees in the shelter of the scrub bushes that lined the path, holding her so tightly against him that she thought her ribs might break on top of it all.

"You have nothing to confess. Child, you are forgiven. This I can grant you. But do not think for one moment that it is time for your death. It is not."

Audrey was too weak even to cry. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed wearily.

"Please let me die. Please. I'm begging you. I'm sorry I called you a virgin and all that, and I'm sorry I made fun of Mary and tried to offend you. I'm sorry I threw a book at you. I'm sorry I hit you and called you names. And your wings aren't really ugly. Just let me die, ok? Just let it be over. I'm miserable like this. I want to start over somehow. I want to be good. I've never been good."

"There is a core of goodness in you that you've not even realized. It has been buried by years of misuse at the hands of others. You need not apologize. You have not wounded me or said anything that was untrue, except about Mary. The fresh start you seek is not offered to the children of men, Audrey. There is but one life granted to you. I have no power to give you more than this."

"Then just let the pain end. Just kill me. Or let me do it myself."

Gabriel cupped her cheek with his large hand and tilted her face up to him. For a long moment he looked into her eyes. Her beautiful, wounded eyes that had seen too much. Gently, he slid his hand across her shoulder, down her arm, found her hand. Audrey did not recoil.

"I will not let you die. You do not understand what it is you ask for. I know that you have suffered, and that I have multiplied your suffering a thousand fold. For this, Audrey Anderson, I ask your pardon. But you must be strong. You will heal."

Audrey actually felt something uncoil in her chest at those words, a loosening of some tightness that she didn't even know was there. She reached up and touched his face as well, surprised to find it moist with tears. Had she made an angel…weep?

"How can I forgive you for taking away everything I ever loved?" she asked, but there was no rage in her voice this time, only genuine pain. "I know my parents were fuc– I mean, I know they were messed up…but they were mine. They took care of me."

"I will take care of you."

"You're scary as hell and I don't know what you want from me. I understood Michael a little, at least. He wanted to save Charlie's baby and the human race. But you…I don't get you. I read the Bible. I thought you were supposed to be the good guy. Why did you do so much damage? Why would you want to kill anyone? Do you hate us that much?"

"I do not. Hatred did not motivate me, only a sense of unquestioning duty. I feel nothing for you. For any of you."

"You're lying. No, this time I _know_ you're lying. You wouldn't have saved me if you didn't feel anything."

Gabriel warred with himself for a tense moment, then sighed and lowered his head, resting it against her shoulder. He said nothing, and Audrey did not make him. She realized that she had more in common with this soft-hearted monster than she ever had with anyone else in her entire life. Maybe that was why she'd had no trouble hating him. God knew she hated herself enough.

It wasn't an intentional act, what happened next. It didn't arise from malice or lust or manipulation. Audrey honestly wanted to comfort him, though he'd made no movement or sound to signify distress. Somehow she knew he needed it.

Her fingernails glided through his thick hair, caressing the back of his head and holding him against her the way her mother used to hold her when she was suffering. He responded hesitantly, unsure of what to do, by encircling her waist with his mighty arms and drawing her fully onto his lap, wanting to offer the young woman the same kind of comfort that she offered him. He raised his eyes to meet hers. Some of the rigidness went out of his posture. The hand that stroked his hair felt indescribably good…no one had ever soothed him or touched him in this way. Angels did not have mothers, after all. Only a Father, a militant Father who sometimes demanded more than they could bear. He closed his eyes and allowed the human girl to touch him in a way he had never, ever permitted before in his entire lifespan of more than four billion years. Audrey kissed the injury on his forehead, the wound on his cheek, his closed eyelids and the weary bruises beneath his eyes. She rained kisses upon him with a tenderness that she'd shown to so many, only to have them respond with demanding sexual intensity, taking her compassion and bending it into pure passion, pushing into her body when all she wanted was to hold them in her heart.

The tiny kisses felt like moths' wings against his face, and when those soft lips brushed his for the first time his entire soul seemed to tremble like a candle flame. He had never been kissed before. The terror of damnation was dulled by the sheer power of the sensation, and for a moment eternal hellfire seemed a small price to pay. Audrey kissed his lips again.

"Relax," She whispered against him, noting that he'd frozen completely, "Open your mouth."

He was shaking. She could feel it. Even his wings were shaking, but Audrey wasn't so dense as to believe that it was anything like fear. He was using every ounce of his will to hold himself back from her. And she adored him for that. Had he taken her just then, she would never have forgiven him. Never. But he chastely held her in his arms and did not allow his hands to stray from her back, her shoulders. Hesitantly, with excruciating slowness, he parted his lips a fraction of an inch as she'd instructed. It was the first yielding she had ever seen from him, the first instance of a melting in the ice age that was his personality. She delicately slid her tongue into his mouth, feeling his trembling increase as she did so. She closed her eyes, deepening the kiss, holding him as tightly as she could against her there on the narrow ledge above the endless valley below.

Gabriel had to exert unimaginable force of will to gain mastery of himself. His lack of experience was by choice, not by circumstance. Countless women across the ages were ready to fall at the feet of an angel at any moment. Many had. But the displeasure of the Creator was absolute in this – demons went to the daughters of men. Angels did not. Still, a snake who has never bitten anyone nevertheless understands fully the mechanisms of the strike. For a few seconds, he kissed her back with a fire that elicited a gasp from the girl, a soft moan against his lips that drove him right to the brink of control. But he forced the moment to pass.

He pulled back, cradling her head on his chest once again. The sun was rising above them, burning away the mist. It was not safe to be outside like this, to be so exposed to the eyes of anything that might be watching…or anyone. With an effort, Gabriel stood up and took a deep breath, rising into the air with a single wing beat, soaring back to the entrance to the cave and carrying his confused and trembling burden inside. Once there, he lay her down on the bedroll, careful not to bump her leg. He meant to draw away from her, but she put her hand on his arm.

"Thank you." She whispered, and he knew that this time it was truly to him that she spoke. He kissed her forehead then, as she had for him.

"I will not harm you." He told her, "I will never harm you."

Audrey closed her eyes, glad that he was there, glad that he was real, confused at how happy it made her to taste him on her tongue and revel in the scent of his skin, his wings, to feel him so close when only a few weeks ago she'd shrunk in terror from his very presence. And now she lay before him trustingly. A mouse curled up next to a dragon.

A dragon who watched her sleep throughout the day, urgent warning growing in his heart as the dull ache of wanting her wore off, only to be replaced with the horror of what they had done. But every time she stirred in her dreams, he was right there…holding her.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Rising Fire

Audrey woke up in Gabriel's arms late that night, warm and contented for the first time in God only knew how long. Years, maybe? She rolled toward him, a little startled to find his eyes closed, his head pillowed comfortably on one dark wing. She hadn't thought that angels ever slept, but there was such a natural quality to the pose that she knew in an instant she was seeing something perfectly normal, if rare. She studied his sleeping face for a few moments and wondered if he dreamed. What would an archangel's dreams look like? Was he even really asleep, or simply resting? Gently, so as not to wake him, Audrey leaned in and kissed the silky skin of his neck above the hateful iron collar. When she drew back, his eyes were open. He looked at her for a long time, his expression unreadable as always. But there was a warmth in his gaze that she found beautiful.

"Were you sleeping?" she asked softly.

"Yes."

"I didn't know you guys ever slept."

"All living things sleep. But it has been weeks since I rested."

"So why haven't you slept until now? I was totally out of it, you could have grabbed a nap or something."

"No. You needed me to remain awake."

She'd never known what chivalry was, or true protectiveness. Jealousy and possessiveness, yes. Certainly. Lots of men and boys had wanted to own her, or at least make sure no one else even got close. But this man ('…_celestial being, _she corrected herself, _he's not human at all…'_) was as stolid and loyal as a Knight of the Round Table standing guard outside the king's chamber door. His sense of duty was truly frightening. It gave new meaning to the term 'guardian angel'.

"I'm sorry. Look, I'll watch over you now, ok? I promise I'll wake you up if there's, like, some kind of attack or anything."

He was touched by her naiveté, her sweet concern for him. The uncomfortable confusion that had troubled him throughout the preceding day arose again in his heart, and he fought it back with angry intensity.

"You are kind. Thank you, Audrey. I will rest later."

Audrey touched his wing, running her finger down the razor edge of one of the savage pinions. It was so sharp that it almost sliced her open, and she shivered to think how easily those feathers had gutted poor old Bob at the diner. Gabriel put his hand protectively over hers and drew it away from the wing edge, pulling it to his chest, where she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart against her palm.

"Why are your wings so sharp?"

"I am designed to fight and kill, Audrey. They are sharp for spilling the blood and the intestines of my enemies. Only the higher orders have such wings, and we are taught to use them as weapons so that we may never be disarmed."

"But I thought angels were peace-loving."

"We are. But we are also called to fight. The armies of the Morning Star against whom we must struggle are many and powerful."

Audrey slid her hand across his muscular chest, trailed her fingers over his abdomen, feeling the hard plane of muscle and skin beneath the thin shirt.

"You mean the devil, right? Like, Satan?"

"Yes."

"What's your job, Gabriel?"

"I am the Messenger, the Head of the Orders of the Angels, Lord of the First Tier, he who sits at the left hand of God and sees that His will is carried out on earth. My brother Michael and I…" He could not finish, his chest constricting suddenly at the mention of his brother's name.

"You tried to kill him." Audrey said. She didn't sound accusatory or cruel this time. She merely stated a fact.

"I did as I was told." Gabriel replied in the same tone.

She said nothing for a little while, stroking his stomach. It troubled her to the core to know that he was a creature of violence and domination, not a comforting and sweet seraphic presence that would banish the evil things to hell. God told him to carry messages – he carried them. God told him to destroy armies – he destroyed them. God told him to kill his own brother and rip a child out of its mother's belly and bring down the human race – he picked up his weapon, spread his razor wings, and headed to earth for the bloodbath. And his expression probably never changed while he did any of these things. An angelic mercenary, working for God and God alone, doing whatever was required and feeling nothing for the ones who got in his way. Audrey propped herself on one elbow and looked down at him, so composed and honest and deceptively enticing. But those eyes…he had truly dangerous, cold, inhumanly ruthless eyes. Blue-gray as arctic ice, and just as tender.

She leaned down, the curtain of her hair tickling his cheek, and pressed her lips gently to his.

Gabriel's arms went around her, cradling her head as he rolled her onto her back. His sheer size and strength frightened her still, but it also caused a thrill of erotic fire to shoot through her body.

He knew that this was deeply, completely wrong. This bliss, this perfect completion in the embrace of another was a gift given to humans only. It was never intended for him, never meant for any of his species. The last time an angel had gone to a woman…terrible things unfolded.

But her scent was sweeter than wildflowers in the sun, her breath against his lips more life-giving than spring water to a man dying in the desert. He could not help himself, and when she slid her soft tongue into his mouth he met it with his own this time. Never. Never before. And, God help him, never again. There was only Audrey, the fallen girl who had the fingerprints of a hundred faceless men on her bruised young body. So many sins, so many secrets, so much hurt. The uncle who touched her in the bath, the coach who cornered her in the locker room, the boys under the bleachers. The thousand plus sins that she was guilty of, everything except murder in fact. Her crimes were a dark stain on her soul, a stain that an angel could see and smell and taste, but Gabriel was no common angel. He was a lord among them, more powerful and more holy than any other save Michael, and he did not shrink from the magnitude of Audrey's damaged spirit.

Gabriel stroked her hair away from her face and trailed kisses down her throat, stopping at the neckline of her dress and proceeding no further. Her breath was coming in little pants now, her eyes fixed upon him, their color dark with desire. He pulled back slightly and traced the curve of her lips with a fingertip.

"Do you remember the secrets?" he whispered, and her body thrilled to hear him speak so softly, so intimately. She shook her head. What secrets? What was he talking about?

Gabriel kissed her again, lightly, and spoke between kisses.

"In the shadow time preceding your birth…I guided your soul into your body…but before I left you to the life you would lead…I told you the secrets of heaven…and touched your lips…Which is why you have this little indentation…above your mouth…and hushed you...so that you cannot speak them...cannot remember them…" he ran the tip of his tongue over the place, and Audrey arched her back, suddenly electrified. Her passions were fully ignited, even her bones ached. She had never in her life wanted anyone more, not even in her wildest fantasies about famous stars or musicians or men she could never have. She wanted him so badly that it was painful, and she reached out to him to draw him down again, to feel the weight of his body on top of hers, to taste every inch of him that he would allow. Unearthly beauty, perfect in every way she could imagine, and her fear of him only added spice to her desire.

But he pulled back, innocently kissing her forehead.

"Damn it, what are you doing?" she demanded weakly. The archangel flashed that almost-smile she was coming to love.

"Are you hungry?"

"What? No! I don't even care at this point!"

He surveyed her with grave seriousness.

"You cannot expect a virgin to give into sin so easily, human child."

"Oh damn you. I get it. You're retaliating for what I did to you the other day. Ok, fine. Play your games, you vengeful ass." She sighed, trying to calm down. The inferno in her body seemed to be engulfing her, she felt like breaking down. But she took a deep, cleansing breath and tried to distract herself by thinking about dead puppies. He watched her imperiously.

"Do we have anything besides granola bars and whatever that stuff in the Tupperware is?" Audrey asked, trying to ignore her discomfort.

"Millie claimed it was oat bread."

"Millie must be senile then."

"I will bring you anything else you wish."

Eight words, so simply spoken, but they went straight to her heart. She felt a sudden surge of happiness. Stockholm Syndrome? No, it was relief. Every moment that passed made her forget how much he irritated her and instead focus on how kind he was being now.

She watched him for a moment, then shoved him with all her might onto his back, playful, a lion cub pouncing on the alpha male's tail. If anyone had told her even a month ago that she would be toying with a real live seraph, she would have slapped the shit out of them, then laughed. What unadulterated bull! But here she was, and Gabriel the Archangel, the Left Hand of God, the Herald of the Annunciation lay beneath her and looked up into her eyes with nervous acceptance. She loved that look on his face, the dark sorrow in his light eyes and the way he didn't blink enough to make him look quite human.

"So you do what I say? Doesn't that make you _my_ prisoner?" she teased. He put a hand on her injured leg.

"You must be careful. You have not healed yet."

"Come on. I'm getting better every day, thanks to you. Are you like this all the time, like some kind of Holy Hall Monitor?"

"Yes."

"God, you must be the life of the party."

Gabriel hated his weakness, but he could not allow her to press her body against him like this, with only a few millimeters of cloth and leather keeping their skin from touching. Especially not after the intensity of the tension present between them already. He had not been seeking revenge upon her by pulling away. Every word he spoke, he meant. Every kiss he bestowed, he wanted as well. But a limit had to be drawn. Their desire was too great, too real to be entertained without courting total disaster.

"Off." He commanded. Audrey leaned down, crossing her arms over his chest.

"No. Kiss me."

"You know I cannot."

"Judging by a few moments ago, I know you can."

"Humans and angels were never meant to become this intimate."

"Then why are we attracted to one another?"

"I am not…" he trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

"What, attracted to me? You're not attracted to me? Want to know why you can't say it? Because it's a lie, Gabriel. It's a lie and you can't ever tell lies. You told me that you never do, anyway. You _are_ attracted to me."

"You presume much."

Audrey did not want to cause him any more irritation than he already felt. Mercy moved her to release him, and she shifted back onto the bedroll with an easy laugh.

"Just chill. I was only playing. Find me something fresh, ok? Like fruit. All this heavy bread stuff is going to make me fat."

He rose to his feet and pulled on his armor, tying it securely around his sides. While he did so, his shirt pulled up slightly, revealing the stomach injury that Audrey had stitched only a week and a half or so previously.

It was almost completely healed.

"Jesus." Audrey gasped. He paused, then followed the direction of her eyes, looking at his side. He raised his gaze again and finished putting on the breastplate, the leather straps that held it in place, the elbow guard and the wrist guards, the thick belt with the wicked-looking prongs.

"No injury lasts very long. We do not die so easily. I will return shortly, Audrey. There is water by the fire if you wish to bathe. And the garments there near the wall are clean."

Before he left, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She closed her eyes and let him, one hand touching the back of his knee.

"I don't hate you as much today as I did yesterday." She told him kindly.

"Yet still more than tomorrow." He replied, and slipped out.

* * *

His departure from the cave was noted by a figure perched some distance away. Michael, a look of concern crossing his features, watched his brother as he flew off toward the valley floor, a dark ghost in the even darker night. Worry and love warred in Michael's chest, and he spread his own wings and soared across the rubble and the sharp jagged rocks, up the sheer cliff face to the entrance of the cave.

"Forgive me," he whispered.

A moment later, Michael stepped inside.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Explosion

Audrey heard him in the hallway, the rustling of feathers as he shook the rain from his wings. So soon? Perhaps he missed her already, she thought with a smile, propping herself up on one elbow.

But the angel who pushed aside the blanket and stepped into the room was shorter and slimmer than Gabriel, his wings were lighter and his body not so heavily muscled. Audrey did not recognize him, and she automatically reached beside her for Gabriel's knife.

"Who…I mean…which one are you? Stay where you are!" for he had moved forward, and she did not know yet if he meant her harm. The angel held up his hands in a calming gesture and knelt down by her side, allowing the lamplight to fully illuminate his shadowed features. Audrey dropped the knife in surprise.

"Audrey, it's ok. It's me. You're safe now." He said quickly. With a little cry of delight, Audrey reached up and put her arms around his torso, hugging him.

"Michael! Oh my God, you're alive! And you got your wings back! He really didn't kill you!"

Michael hugged her back for a moment, then held her at arm's length and looked down at her.

"We haven't much time. Can you walk?"

"Why? What's happened?"

"I'm getting you out of here. You have no idea of the danger you're in."

Audrey felt her smile slip away all at once, and she stared up at him in shock. Was there something horrible on its way? Was it demons this time? Oh God, was the whole world coming to an end? Why weren't they being protected anymore? But Michael was here now, and everything would be ok again.

"Oh no! We need to tell Gabriel right away, then! He went down to the –"

"No! Audrey, listen to me! You are in danger _from_ Gabriel! More danger than you could possibly conceive of!"

"Michael, I know what you think. But he's not dangerous, not to me, not anymore! He…he saved me. And he hasn't hurt me. It's ok. Look, just wait for him to get back and you guys can talk about – "

Michael gave her a little shake, then squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, frustrated that he didn't have the time to fully explain.

"Child, there is no time! Come with me _now_!" He took her wrists in his hands, lifting her to her feet. Audrey struggled, shocked that he would behave this way. He had saved her once, damn it! And now he was trying to re-save her from the only place she'd been truly happy her whole life? But at the same time, she almost wanted him to. God, she felt confused.

"Let me go! Just stop it! Michael, please! Let me go!" Audrey started to cry, hating her weakness and her confusion and the anger that was growing in her heart over being treated time and again like she had no choice, like her opinion and her needs didn't matter, like she was nothing but a pawn in some great chess game. Now the black bishop and the white bishop threatened one another across the board, a single pawn in the center. God…God…oh fuck it, if Satan would listen she would implore him instead…please just let this all somehow turn out ok. Audrey wasn't even sure anymore which one of these angels was the good guy.

Michael was too strong for her. Carefully, but still holding her wrists tightly in one hand, he guided her toward the entrance.

"You have to come with me, Audrey. You don't understand and you don't need to. But trust me. Trust me that you are in more danger than you realize."

"Let…me…GO!" Audrey shrieked, fighting him. She didn't want this! Did she? "Please, please Michael! Just wait for your brother! WAIT FOR YOUR BROTHER!"

He turned her around and pulled her against his body to keep her from struggling further.

"I am sorry, Audrey, I am so sorry," he told her softly, and there was honesty in his voice, "but I have to do this. Please trust me, as you once did. Uriel."

Another winged figure stepped forth from the shadows, one that she did not even realize was there. He took hold of her, but not roughly, and lifted her as easily as though she were a toy. She clawed at him, kicking, pulling at his soft gray-green feathers (_pinfeathers, they will grow back…)_as he carried her down the tunnel to the cave entrance.

"MICHAEL NO! PLEASE I'M BEGGING YOU!" Audrey screamed with all her might, but he merely stood there, a look of deepest sorrow in his beautiful eyes.

"Uriel, you know where to take her. See that she is safe. I will follow as soon as I am able." He told the angel who bore her, receiving a nod in response. Audrey couldn't get away, she felt one of her stitches pop as she tried to wriggle free from the grip of the strange angel who held her. Exhausted, fearing blood loss, Audrey finally went limp as they launched into the air.

"You'd better damn well hope Michael can explain his way out of this, you fucker," she growled into the creature's mane of fragrant golden hair, "Because when Gabriel finds out what you've done, he's going to _rip you to SHREDS!_"

Michael watched them go, scanning the horizon to be sure that they did not share the sky with any other beings that might be around. And then, with a heavy heart, he moved back into the cave and removed his armor, laid his sword down prominently on the floor, removed his knife, disarmed himself completely, and waited for Gabriel.

He did not have to wait long. A half hour passed, and then the unmistakable sound of wing beats outside, metallic armor striking softly against stone as he steadied himself, and the silent footfalls of a huge predator moving down the short hallway. Michael steeled himself, and a moment later Gabriel pushed aside the blanket and stepped into the room.

They stared at one another for a few seconds. Michael wore an expression of determination and apology. Gabriel's eyes showed only shock at finding his brother here…shock that began almost immediately to turn to rage. Michael saw it, saw the darkening fires suddenly ignite in those eyes, and held up his hands.

"Gabriel, calm yourself. I am unarmed, I do not wish to fight you. You must listen to me, please."

"Where is she." It was not a request.

"She is safe, Gabriel. But you know she had to be removed from this place, from you."

"That is not your decision to make."

"You are risking so much…"

"Exactly, Michael. It is _my _risk, not yours. This interference is beyond anything you have ever done! Tell me where she is before I kill you _again_!"

"It is not only your risk! Her soul is in danger as well! Your damnation would be certain, but SO WOULD HERS! If you care about her – "

"You know _nothing_! I have protected her!"

"I watched from the rocks after you left, brother. My worry for you forbade me from leaving the area. I saw the girl jump, and I saw you save her. I would have done so if you had not. I witnessed your rescue, and all that followed. In the countless millennia that we have spent together, I have NEVER seen you defy Him. But this little human…your embrace…in the name of the Creator, Gabriel, I will not stand by and allow your emotional unrest over recent events to destabilize you into complete self-destruction!"

"Emotional unrest? _Emotional unrest?_" Gabriel's deep voice was never raised, he had no need to shout, but he came extremely close as he repeated the words in disbelief. "Your arrogance is astonishing, Michael! Do you think me weak?"

"It is not a word I would ever use to describe you. But after what has happened…"

"I am as I have always been. My concern for Audrey has nothing to do with 'emotional unrest', Michael! To suggest such a thing is worse than an insult. It is a petition for suicide."

The mace clicked once, twice, the blades extending. In a moment, those gigantic glossy wings would lift and spread wide to stabilize his stance, the death adder rearing to strike.

"Gabriel! Stop, just listen to me. Hear me out!"

But Gabriel was beyond reason. His left hand dropped a small sack on the floor…apples and oranges spilled onto the stone. He gripped the mace with both hands, lifting it.

"I am unarmed! You know the law!" Michael said sharply. His brother paused, glaring, then set the mace down at his feet and stepped away from it. Never taking his eyes from the other archangel's face, he untied his breastplate and dropped it to the floor. He was deathly silent. Resolute.

"Gabriel, there is no need for this! Allow me to expla-"

His words were abruptly cut off as a fist slammed into his jaw with enough force to fracture concrete. Instantly, Michael ducked, knowing that Gabriel always followed a right hook with a left-handed jab. But his brother, correctly guessing that Michael knew this, dispensed with any conceivable pattern at all and simply wrapped his arms around his torso in a bearhug, lifting him off the ground and slamming him bodily to the floor.

Blood exploded from Michael's lips as something broke inside, but he did not slow. He knew that even unarmed this was nevertheless a fight to the death…or something very near it. He kicked upward, catching Gabriel in the stomach and pitching him into the rock wall behind him. The resounding CRACK of his head against the stone was followed by a bright burst of blood from his right eye, but he was on his feet within seconds. This time he spun, the lethal move they'd both been taught to use in close quarters to disembowel their opponents. The tip of his wing caught Michael in the chest, opening a bright line of red gore that stained through the soft white calfskin shirt he wore. Michael dropped into a crouch and slashed at Gabriel's legs with his own wing, laying his thigh open almost to the bone. The two angels threw themselves at one another, blood and feathers everywhere, the walls streaked with red, the horror of holy wrath playing itself out between the brothers. They were too evenly matched, too perfectly attuned to one another. No one would emerge the victor here save by hurting himself in the process, and as before it was Gabriel who made the decision to do so. He gripped Michael in a steel embrace and threw his weight fully into the bank of oil lamps that lined one wall.. So great was his fury and so terrible his pain at the prospect of never seeing Audrey again that he truly did not care if he saw another sunrise. Flames exploded all around them. There was the acrid smell of burning flesh and feathers, and Michael cried out. The pain was excruciating, beyond description, but the knowledge that it would end soon made every moment bearable. Michael was convulsing in his arms, coughing on the hot smoke that rose from his own burning wings.

The last thing Gabriel saw before blackness covered him was his brother's hands, charred and bleeding, gripping the front of his torn shirt and dragging him away from the brightness of pure hellfire.

_"…I feel nothing for you. For any of you."_

There was a sensation of falling, a hard impact that jarred him to the center of his bones.

_"You wouldn't have saved me if you didn't feel anything."_

And he knew nothing more, the pure sweet coolness of unconsciousness, or death, he did not care either way, sliding up and over him like a black veil.

_Audrey._


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: The Fallen Angels

Uriel flew the girl excruciatingly high, well beyond the level of the heavens where most human beings would expire. But he sheltered her with a fold of his bright cloak, and through some strange magic she found that she not only lived, but could breathe and maintain consciousness. Her whole soul hurt. Her heart was shattered, broken. Why had Michael done this? What could the reason possibly be? What kind of danger could her rescuer, her guardian, her beloved angel pose to her? Weakly, more out of spite than a desire to be suddenly released, Audrey pinched Uriel as hard as she could on the arm that held her.

"Stop that or I will drop you." He told her, "You are precious to the General and the Hand of God, not to me."

"The Hand of God is going to do things to you that would make you cringe to even think about!"

"He will listen to his brother if he knows what is good for him. And so should you."

"Where are you taking me, damn it?!"

"Keep silent and still, human. I have business to attend to elsewhere and you are in the way of it. This is an annoyance, and if you increase it I will simply kill you and be done with it, favor or no. The time of your race is at an end."

"Screw you!"

"I am not Gabriel, little girl. There is no chance of that."

Audrey lapsed into silence, tears filling her eyes. Oh God, was _that_ what this was about?! Had she somehow put him in danger by getting as close to him as she did, by touching him the way she had and kissing him and tempting him to do things that no angel was supposed to do?

It was freezing, really freezing. Frost rimed her eyelashes and the tips of Uriel's wings, and still they pressed on. Audrey lost track of time, she knew that she fell asleep at least twice, and her body hung slack in his arms once in awhile when the exhaustion took her.

It was during one of these bouts of uneasy unconsciousness that she felt them finally make landfall, the impact jarring her into wakefulness. She opened her eyes, tumbling to the grassy ground as Uriel released her.

"Damn, how far away did you take me?" she asked in a hushed voice. Judging by the surroundings, _very_ far.

Towering fruit trees and swaying willows surrounded them, and the brilliant green grass was long and soft and thick. A forest pool with a little tinkling waterfall lay some distance away, illuminated by shafts of the purest sunlight she had ever seen. No dust motes. No litter. No distant sound of cars. No path marked by fences or white paint. The air smelled fresher and sweeter than anything she had ever smelled in her life. Tears were suddenly pouring down her cheeks, and she did not know why. This place…this _place…_ it was somehow familiar and yet she had never been there before. Like the ghost of a beautiful dream that slips away the moment the sleeper awakens, her impression of the warm glen and the scented air and the clear light were a jumbled familiarity that at once soothed her and set her mind and spirit to dancing. She had come home, at long last, to a place she'd never been.

Uriel leaned against a tree, the sunlight making gold fire of his long hair. He fixed her with his eyes, incredibly blue, piercing eyes. She noted that he did not wear armor as Michael and Gabriel did. A sword belt adorned his waist, but that was the only weaponry she could perceive. He was not rugged or rough-looking in the slightest, did not carry himself like a warrior. In fact, standing there in his long white robe and burnished copper-colored sandals, pale gray wings touched with emerald highlights folded neatly behind him, he looked more like the classic perception of an angel than any of the others she'd met.

"You're different." She said.

"If you mean by that statement that you find me different from Gabriel and Michael, then yes. They are soldiers. I am not. I am Chief of the Fourth Tier of angelic hosts, the Angel of Redemption, he who guards the gates of Eden with a flaming sword to keep you and your kind from ever returning." He told her, adjusting his scabbard. It was covered with runes, strange angelic script that gleamed here and there with some cold fire that moved. Audrey looked up into the trees, alarmed at the sudden realization that slammed into her heart with all the force of a hundred foot wave.

"Oh my God," she whispered, hardly able to breathe, "We're in Eden."

Uriel sighed, his wings suddenly losing some of their stiff posture.

"You are. And believe me, human child, it has been a long, long time since last your kind walked here. But you are hurt. Michael told me to see to this. Remove your clothing and bathe in the pool. Your injuries will be no more."

"It's not going to wash away a broken heart, damn it!" Audrey snapped, shaking off the peacefulness of the place as she remembered Gabriel's gentle, sad eyes…he must have returned by now. What was going on there? What was Michael saying to him? Were they fighting? Was Gabriel even now looking for her? She eyed Uriel angrily, wondering whose side he was really on.

"I know that you are in pain, but in time you will forget, and you will heal. That is always the way of it. Gabriel will endure the pain of this…entanglement…far longer than your lifespan stretches. He is the one we are worried for. For the good of you both, you had to be forcibly parted." Uriel seemed less unnaturally cold than the others, more emotional and less distant. But also less tolerant. He _had_ threatened to drop her, after all.

He came over and knelt down, inspecting the cast. Gently, he cracked it open a few inches at a time, exposing the tender skin and the healing fracture beneath it. His fingers were long and capable as he explored her injury.

"For the good of us both?!" Audrey demanded, trying not to wince as he touched the stitches on her thigh. "The best thing for the both of us was to leave us together! Don't you holier-than-thou assholes get it? I was starting to care about someone other than me for a damn change, starting to feel bad for the rotten person I've been for, like, the last seventeen fucking years! He was making me want to be something different! And God, look at _him_! He dragged me out of the wreck, gave me medical help, fed me and took care of me with his own hands! What do you think of that, huh? The Lord of your First Tier or whatever actually helped a human instead of trying to kill one!" Her voice was rising, bright red spots appearing on her cheeks. Uriel stopped what he was doing, looking at her with that cerulean gaze, but she didn't even care anymore.

She couldn't stop the rush of words, couldn't hamper their flow in the slightest, "I was six inches from death and he wouldn't let me go, damn it! He didn't rest, he just held me and fed me and even washed the piss and presumably the shit from my body without complaining even once! This is a man I spit on and made fun of and disrespected and outright tortured and he never hurt me back! So if you think that he deserves to have the only thing that seems to have ever brought him any kind of happiness taken away just because we're growing attached to each other then you're worse than a meddlesome asshole, you're a total SADIST! Gabriel has served you fuckers for his entire existence! He's done every nasty, bloody, heartbreaking thing that your precious God who doesn't even believe in His own creations ever asked him to do, and what's his reward? WHAT IS HIS REWARD, URIEL?! It's to have his heart broken and to have some fucking angelic intervention shoved down his throat! He's a big boy, he's the bravest damn one of you because he does what he's told even when it's terrible, and he doesn't need a pair of pompous PIGEONS like you two treating him like a MENTAL PATIENT!"

Uriel didn't move. Not even an inch. He just stared at her in stunned silence. Audrey stared back, her chest heaving. But she didn't cry. For once, she didn't feel at all like crying. Quite the opposite. She felt strong and resolute and brave, even with this powerful seraph kneeling in front of her. With a jerk, she pulled her injured leg out of his hands and stood, wobbling slightly, then pulled the cotton dress up and over her head, dropped her panties, and turned away from him. Proud, bare-assed and battered, scarred and sinful, fucked-up and bright with life, she slipped into the cool water of the forest pool to let the healing waters close over her.

If she was going to fight her way out of Eden, she would need her strength.

* * *

Howard was out in the west fields tending to a fallen heifer well before dawn, trying hard to figure out what was wrong with her by the wan light of the lamp he carried in his gnarled old hand. With him was his young assistant, Danny, who knelt down on the ground and looked into each of the cow's eyes with a little light pen.

"Her eyes look pretty dull, Dr. Slater. Ted says she ain't dropped a pie since yesterday morning, won't drink no water and doesn't want to eat. You think we should put her down?"

"You feel them ears now, Danny, and tell me if they're cold." Howard told him patiently. Danny obediently ran his hands over the ears, looking up at the older man in astonishment.

"Why, they're stone cold!"

Howard nodded sagely. "I reckon it's displaced abomasum, that fourth stomach there is out of whack and all full up with gas or fluid. I'm betting she had a calf within the last month. Pretty simple surgery, but I'm gonna need to get her back to the clinic. You bring that flatbed round, help me get her winched up and we'll see about…"

Something caught his eye. Was it a meteor? Something bright, a fireball of light falling from the sky a few miles over toward the mountains.

"Now what in the Sam hell is that?" he said in wonder. Danny stood up next to him, both of them watching in silence as the light vanished into the distant trees. An icy tingle seemed to run up Howard's old spine, although he couldn't imagine why. Lots of strange lights were seen in the desert round these parts. The government was always testing some damn fool thing or other.

But he couldn't take his eyes off the place where the fireball had vanished. Something wasn't right.

"Danny, you reckon you can wake Old Ted and have him help you with the cow? And I'm gonna need the keys to your pickup. Got something I need to check." He said. Danny fumbled through his pockets for the keys and put them into Howard's hand.

"You bet. I can even do the surgery if you want me to, now that you told me what's what. Learned about displaced abomasums in vet school and all that, wouldn't mind taking care of her for you."

"Well, son, you gotta learn sometime. You run and do that, then. Be seeing you." Howard told him, ignoring the young man's quizzical look. He memorized the spot on the horizon, stepping backwards until he felt the metal door of the truck behind him, then got in and drove off at top speed.

Danny watched him go, shaking his head.

"Crazy old man going off to chase aliens again." He said with a friendly chuckle, and turned back to the cow.

* * *

When Howard arrived at the place he thought he'd seen the meteor hit, he stopped the truck and got out, looking around him in the gloomy pre-dawn light. Nothing moved except the trees in the wind, a chilly wind that whipped the top branches of the jack-pines and made a hissing sound through the rock formations. He stood awhile, listening to the crickets sing their night chorus and the distant coyotes talk to one another, looking for dead or dying things to clean up before the sun rose.

A light. There was a light over there! Howard dragged aside a fallen log that blocked his path and got back in the truck, driving slowly towards the flickering illumination that showed through the trees. When he'd come right up to the edge of the little clearing, he got out again, leaving the truck running just in case.

"Hey there! Anyone about?" he called. There was no answer, and Howard forced his feet to carry him closer to the light. He lifted a branch, peered beneath it…and recoiled in shock and horror.

"Oh sweet merciful Jesus Christ!" he said hoarsely, falling to his knees in the dirt. The bodies of two angels lay sprawled on the ground before him, the broken wing of one held grotesquely in the air, smoldering. The stink was unimaginable, and Howard retched. There was blood everywhere. Was one of these bodies _his_ angel? He didn't know. They were so damaged, so burned, so broken – but he had to see.

"Gabriel? Son, is that you?" he crawled toward the nearest angel and turned him awkwardly onto his back. No, this wasn't the angel who visited he and Millie regularly. This one had a slimmer face, he was a bit smaller, his hair and his cheekbones were different. There was a terrible injury on his face, it looked like his entire jaw had been dislocated. But he was breathing. Howard laid him out as best he could and crawled to the other figure, turning him over as well.

It was Gabriel.

Howard suddenly felt his old eyes stinging, and he wiped at them with the back of one hand.

"Ah God, boy. Ohhh no. Oh what happened?" he said, rocking the big seraph a little. He reached down and took the massive hand in his, then pressed his fingers to the wrist to feel for a pulse. With a shock, he realized that it was there! Faint, slow, but there! He was still alive, although how he possibly could be given the state he was in was beyond Howard's level of comprehension.

"It's gonna be ok, Gabe, you just sit tight. I got you now." Howard told him, stroking the angel's dirty, bloody hair away from his face. His tears fell on Gabriel's cheek, and he used them to wash away more of the blood, unashamed. What kind of a man _wouldn't_ weep over a being this badly hurt, especially one he cared about?

Gently, respectfully, Howard dragged first Gabriel, then Michael back to the truck. Using the spare straps and harness normally reserved for pulling and securing small livestock into the bed of the truck, he carefully winched them both up and covered them snugly with a canvas drop cloth he found in the back seat, hiding them from any prying eyes in town.

Then, still wiping his streaming eyes, Howard Slater the old veterinarian drove his angels home.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Stabilizing

Howard skidded into the driveway at top speed. He had no time to waste.

"Millie! Come quick, honey, I need ya!" he hollered through the door. Millie knew that tone in his voice, had responded to it in the dead of winter and the height of summer, at the crack of dawn and the middle of the night. It meant that there was something hurt bad and Howie was in full salvation-mode. The last time her man had sounded this upset, he'd dragged a half-dead wolf into their living room and removed six bullets from its body on her brand-new rug. But that was why she loved him. Howard was a man who stopped at nothing to ply his God-given gift of healing.

She threw off her bathrobe, wriggled into her 'work clothes', and ran out to meet him.

"Whatcha got this time, Howie? You need me to grab your kit?" she called. Howard took her by the arm and guided her to the back of the truck, where a blood-stained canvas cloth covered something massive. Oh dear…her carpet was a complete goner this time.

"Honey, now I need you to brace yourself, ok? You be tough now."

Millie nodded. She'd seen a lot in her time, some of it pretty terrible, but something in her husband's voice let her know that whatever lay under that tarp was worse than anything she'd had to deal with before. Howard drew back the tarp, and Millie had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. But she was tough.

It took the both of them to lift the angels one at a time, using the livestock sling and the transport blankets to move them inside. There was only one bed left in the entire house, theirs, and they laid Michael and Gabriel side by side with great reverence and care. Howard folded their wings down properly, splinting them temporarily with belts and bathrobe ties, and snapped Michael's jaw back into place with practiced quickness. There was nothing he could do for Gabriel at the moment. Millie began to boil some water while Howard ran outside and hosed down the truck. When he came back in, he immediately pulled shut the blinds and turned to his stricken wife.

"Wash them both, honey, nice and thorough. Get those clothes off and clean out any wounds you can get to. Don't touch the wings, they're damn tricky on a bird and I'll wager they're even worse on these boys. I need a whole hell of a lot of things right now, and I have to give Danny back his truck before he starts asking questions. Keep them warm, cover them up good with clean blankets. Keep Pete away from them, you know he's mad for feathers. I'll be back soon's I can. God, Millie, just pray." Howard said in a rush, and ran back out to the van.

Millie poured the water into a chipped blue basin, her heart clenching in her chest. What had happened? Why were there two of them now? Was heaven under attack? Where was Gabriel's lady friend? There were so many questions, but she couldn't afford to entertain them. Instead, she busied herself by following her husband's orders to the letter. She used her sewing scissors to remove their torn clothing, then washed both of them with great care, shocked at the extent of their injuries. The basin had to be emptied again and again, bloody water swirling down the drain and charred skin sticking to the sides. It was terrible, how badly they were hurt. Millie covered them both with soft flannel blankets fresh from the wash, tucking them in as tenderly as though they were her own sons.

The eyes of the unfamiliar one flickered suddenly, and Millie froze. He opened them.

"…where…" he managed, his voice weak. Millie leaned down and patted his cheek, motherly worry pinching her brow.

"You're ok, son, you and your brother both are here in our house. My husband's gone to get his kit, he's gonna fix you up right proper in no time, just you wait and see."

"Brother… Gabriel… alive?"

"He's alive, honey, he's just not awake right now. But here," Millie reached under the blankets, found the smaller angel's hand and put it on top of Gabriel's, "There now, he's right here beside you. Just you close your eyes, take a little rest. Whatever done this to the both of you won't get you here. I got a shotgun and I know how to use it."

Michael rolled his head to the side, staring through half-lidded eyes at his brother's body next to him. He couldn't speak, couldn't convey all that was in his heart and his head and the awful things that lay behind what had happened up there in the cave. But he squeezed the hand he held and did not let go even when he passed out. Millie dragged a chair into the room and sat down by Gabriel's side, stroking his hair and humming a little under her breath. The pillow underneath his head was quickly becoming soaked with blood.

"Come on, Howie." Millie whispered. "Hurry."

* * *

Uriel had clearly been told not to leave Audrey alone for even a spare moment in Eden.

Everywhere she wandered, every tree she sat under, every stream she followed, every little hill she climbed…he was right there, a seraphic stalker who never seemed to tire. She suspected that he knew why she was so diligently searching the lands about – she was looking for the way out. The gates. The wall. Anything that might give her a way out. But there seemed to be nothing. For miles and miles around, nothing but fruit trees and little lakes and streams of crystal clear water and wide meadows exploding with wildflowers.

In a sheltered glade of blossoming pear trees, Audrey finally whirled on him.

After the severe tongue-lashing she'd meted out by the healing pool when they'd first arrived, Uriel had spoken very little to her. He handled her as though she were some unstable explosive substance that the slightest jarring could detonate.

"Where is it, damn you?" she demanded. Uriel looked at her evenly, then crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a tree trunk.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The gate, _nanny_, the gate! The one you're supposed to guard! Where is it?!"

"You don't need to know where it is because you are not getting through it. Michael told me to – "

Audrey threw a pear at him as hard as she could, hitting him in the stomach.

"I don't give a crap what Michael told you or didn't tell you! I am going to find that gate and when I do, I am going through it. The only way you'll get me to stay in this place is if you bring Gabriel here. Otherwise, I'm getting the fuck out and going to find him even if it means I have to rip your wings off and flap down to earth myself!"

"You are the most hostile little brat I have ever had the misfortune of meeting! What the Hand of God sees in you is beyond me!"

"I DON'T CARE what you think!"

And then Uriel did something that Gabriel had not done, not in all their fights or during all the times when she'd flung insults at him without pause. The Angel of Redemption slapped her. Not hard, certainly not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to silence her for a moment. He wasted no time.

"Look, I know that you are upset, and after what you said to me yesterday I understand why. Believe me, I understand. I had not looked at the situation from your point of view…or from his…in quite the way that you so eloquently spelled out. If pressed for my opinion at this point, I would not be so certain as I was two days ago that the course of action we followed was necessarily the right course. But Michael expressly told me to wait here with you until he could sort things out, and that is what we must do. When the General arrives, we shall speak with him. You will tell him, _respectfully_, all that you told me. A human who is willing to risk anything, even the holy wrath of God, to be with an angel is nothing new. But an angel, an archangel, the _Archangel Gabriel,_ pulling a human from a car wreck and nursing her back to health at great risk to himself is so unusual as to be within the realm of pure mathematical impossibility. And yet that is exactly what he did. What you described to me is not the normal behavior of the seraph I have known since before the world was fully formed. Michael must have known the care that Gabriel was showing you, although he did not describe it to me. After what you told me, I am inclined to believe that an error was made. But Michael hinted that there was a very significant factor of which he could not speak that motivated his desire for forcible separation. Something that frightened him. And I do not think it was simply that Gabriel showed you compassion."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Audrey demanded, touching her stung cheek.

"You curse like a Roman soldier. What I am talking about is the manner in which Michael brought the plan for this 'angelic intervention', as you put it, to my attention. He said that Gabriel was in danger of inciting the wrath of God, that he was losing his mind due to recent events and was completely bewitched by you."

"Oh, bullsh-"

"Let me finish. Michael also said, rather sadly, that he 'did not want to see what happened to Raphael also happen to Gabriel'. I thought very little of it at the time. Raphael died during a prolonged battle with the Morning Star and his fallen ones, so I assumed that he meant only the loss of Gabriel's life. But I wonder now, child, I truly do wonder."

Audrey bit her lip, looking up at him with nervous anticipation.

"What do you wonder?" she asked.

Uriel scanned the bright horizon, watching the way the cloudless sky swept down to meet the emerald grass beyond them. He shook his wings slightly, like a resting owl.

"I wonder what really happened to Raphael." He said.

* * *

Three days passed, and Howard and Millie cared for their angels..

Michael was awake for longer and longer periods as time wore on, his inner strength forcing his body to heal and his mind to rouse itself every time he drifted off. It was he who was first able to get out of bed with the help of the old couple, dress himself in a pair of Howard's best sweat pants, to lean forward on a kitchen chair as the old veterinarian patiently ministered to his broken wing. The pain was excruciating, intense, and it was all he could do to keep from crying out. The amount of force necessary to damage an angel wing was astounding, but Michael's right wing was broken in two places and his left wing was badly dislocated. Howard was as gentle as he could be, and Millie patiently bathed away the sweat that poured down Michael's face and bare chest as he endured the discomfort.

"Hold steady now, young man." Howard told him, and jerked the left wing back into place using every ounce of strength he had. There was a nauseating POP, and the joint slid home. Howard then splinted it into place and turned to the other wing, plucking out a few feathers that had snapped off near the skin. Millie tried to engage him in conversation to distract him from his physical misery.

"We know your brother. Been coming here on and off for a few weeks now. What's your name, son?"

"Michael."

Howard paused, slowly lowering his hands and sinking down to his knees by the chair. He looked stricken. Millie covered her mouth with both hands, and they were quiet with awe. The situation had gone far beyond anything they could ever have conceived of. Michael's name was as known to them as Gabriel's, both of the good Christian folk having been raised on Bible stories.

"Oh God. Why are you both here?" Howard asked softly. Michael shifted position, trying to breathe without pain and finding it impossible.

"It's…complicated." He replied. "How is my brother?"

"I won't lie to you, Michael. He's not doing so good. I seen a lot of hurt people and hurt animals in my days, and I know the look of the ones as won't make it, you understand? It's gonna be touch and go. He's burnt over half his body worse than you were, lost a lot of blood, got multiple fractures and some pretty bad cuts all over his body. And that head wound has me worried. He don't seem to have the fight in him that you do, like he's gone and given up or something. And he don't seem to be healing quite so fast. His bones don't keep on slipping, either, probably because he's holding still."

Michael said nothing, but he closed his eyes and put his head down on the back of the chair. Blood spattered the floor, trickled down the angel's bare, burned arms, mixed with his sweat. A resounding crack, followed by a tense groan, signaled that Howard had re-set the broken wing.

"Don't know if you'll be able to fly again soon, son. This is a pretty bad fracture. If you were a bird, I'd have amputated it. But I'm gonna do my best."

"I thank you. You have been most compassionate. It renews my faith in humanity even further to see such kindness."

"Ah, never you mind about that. It's my pleasure and it's my job. But I'd like to know what happened up there to the both of you to get you to this state."

"It is a very long and complex story, Howard. Please do what you can for my brother. He is…" Michael's voice broke, "He is precious to me."

Howard nodded, busy with removing the belts and re-setting the wing.

"He's precious to us too, young man. Never you worry, I'll do my best. Now what about his lady friend, the injured girl he kept up there? Is she ok?"

"She is safe. Another angel took her."

"Fine. Good. One less thing for him to worry about. You boys both just need to heal up a bit, get better. I'll do what I can. These burns are pretty bad, though, and you're ripped all to hell if you'll pardon my French. Gonna be a long haul to get you on your feet proper again."

Michael was feeling faint again, but he fought back the fatigue and the pain and the weariness that stole his energy and rendered him helpless. His brother was giving up. God only knew what happened to an angel who gave up, who decided to lay down and let the wounds fester without exerting the energy to close them through sheer force of will. That was the only way they healed, actually. It was an act of Grace spurred on by an acceptance of and a seeking for the healing light that infused the whole world. But if Gabriel did not seek it, did not reach out for a regenerative force that would put the breath back in his lungs and pump the blood through his veins, then he was as good as lost, as good as dead, as good as…well, he was as good as Raphael. He couldn't let Gabriel go. He had already failed to save one brother. Losing this, the brother he loved most, was too terrible a thing even to speculate on. Michael reached down inside himself and found that core of energy, drawing deeply on it, pulling the healing strength into his body and forcing his limbs to move. He had to _move_.

Unsteady, struggling even to rise, he got up from the chair and put a hand on Millie's shoulder to steady himself.

"I need you to bring me some items." he told the couple gently, every word hurting him to speak. His jaw hurt, but he ignored it. "A sharp knife, an empty blood bag, I.V. needle and tubing. My brother's life depends on these things."

"What you planning on doing, son?"

Michael headed into the room where Gabriel lay, still and silent and beautiful and dying. He leaned against the doorframe and looked down at the big angel for a long time without speaking, Then he glanced back over his shoulder at Howard.

"I plan to save him." he replied.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Knowledge

On the seventh day, Audrey found something better than the Gate. She hadn't even really thought about it as a possible exit point, but the moment she topped a small rise, Uriel in tow, and saw what lay in the shallow valley before her, she knew she'd discovered something powerful and dangerous.

Uriel felt his heart sink, and he groaned.

There before them, gleaming in the sunlight and moving gently despite the calm air, a fantastically immense tree spread its branches to the bright yellow sun. It was truly huge, truly magnificent, and completely loaded with gorgeous green apples the size of small pumpkins. The archangel put a hand over his eyes for a moment as Audrey stared, mouth open, at the Tree of Knowledge.

"Here we go again…" he muttered to himself, deeply annoyed.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"It's a tree. Just keep walking, human."

"It's an apple tree. An _apple_ tree. In Eden."

"There are lots of them here. Keep walking."

"Not like this one. You know, I think I might just go ahead and take one, serpent or no serpent."

"It won't do you any good. Your ancestors already made that mistake a long, long time ago. It doesn't work the same way twice. One sin, one taste, and it changed your entire bloodline. You've still got apple juice in your bloodstream, so to speak. Eating another will do nothing. All the same, you are not permitted to touch it. Ever."

"Says who?"

"God. And me. Now keep walking."

"Humans were expelled from paradise for eating from this tree, right?"

"Correct."

"Then if I touch it, I'm breaking the rules of Eden. You'll have to throw me out or you'll be defying God, right?"

"A moot point. You are not going to be going anywhere near it."

"Are you already defying God by keeping me here?"

"Your presence here is temporary. Michael will arrive any moment and then we will decide what to do with you."

Audrey smirked at him, feeling her ire rise again. _Decide_ what to do? Not likely! She'd already made up her mind.

"So what you're saying is that no one actually got God's permission. You jerks decided to imprison me here without clearing it with your boss? I guess He'll be pretty mad when a human steals another apple then. Mad enough to kick me out of Eden, I'm guessing."

Uriel began to draw his sword.

"Human, stand away from the Tree. I sympathize with you, I will help you to work this out. There is no need for you to engage in rash behavior. It will end badly if you do."

But Audrey didn't believe him. She did not trust this smooth angel, and she did not trust Michael. She did not trust _anyone_ anymore…anyone except Gabriel. With a burst of energy, she turned like a deer who scents the hunter and bolted for the Tree.

The next few seconds seemed to last a lifetime. It was Eden. On earth it might very well have been a thousand years, she didn't even know. It felt like forever…her feet thumping down methodically in the soft green grass, the wildflowers nodding their heavy perfumed heads as she tore through them, bolting toward the Tree, the sudden wild _whoosh_ of Uriel spreading his moss-moon wings and taking to the air above her, the descending shadow, the sharp sting of the flat side of the Sword of Redemption plied against her thighs, and she was down. The angel held her there, struck her again, but she did not scream. Audrey had never been spanked, never been paddled, never been held down and flogged. Hell no! Her father didn't believe in it, thought it was barbaric. Her mother had only struck her in the face a few times.

But now this punishment, this corporal reprimand and correction delivered in the shadow of the Tree of Knowledge by a golden-haired archangel…pain radiated from the blows, he held her firmly and struck her again and again until she was weak with the exertion of not crying out, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her in agony. He finally stopped, not wanting to permanently damage her, and forced her to rise to her knees before him.

Audrey, her whole body shaking, glared up at him. Tall, terrible and beautiful, radiating holy light and judgment, Uriel looked down at her.

"Tell me why I beat you, Audrey Anderson."

"Because…you're a …vicious…evil...bully." she said, breathing heavily. Her backside and thighs were on fire.

Uriel knelt down and took her chin in his hand, looking into her eye, mesmerizing her with the depth of his flawless blue-heaven gaze.

"No, you little brat." He said sternly, "I beat you because you deliberately disobeyed me. The Tree will not help you. The Gate will not help you. There is no escape from Eden, and you're a fool to even try. I am he who keeps your kind out, child…don't you think I would be just as effective at keeping you in? Michael placed you under my supervision, and I shall not fail in my task. I never fail. You're not dealing with some fluffy greeting card cherub, my dear. You will do as I say. "

"Gabriel is going to kick your ass when he finds out what you just did to me!"

"My elder brother and I have never fought, not once in our entire lives. It is Michael who contends with him over everything, all the time. The matter of your correction will be no different. If you _are_ permitted to see him again, you will be hard-pressed to explain to him why you threatened to flout God's laws in the first place. Believe me, Gabriel does not tolerate disobedience. He would have done the same, and far less mercifully. Being struck a few times with the flat of my blade and being tied to a post and whipped with a good old-fashioned Roman _flagellum_ are rather different events on principle. Care to know which method he's more likely to use? And such strong arms from lifting that mace…"

Audrey reached behind her and rubbed her stinging backside, still glaring at him. She didn't know if she believed him in the slightest.

"If he thought he needed to beat me, then he knows he's welcome to come and try. And so are you. And so is Michael. Bring it on if you think you're men enough. But none of you are going to break me. Go ahead, waste your energy. I'll rip this place up by the roots until you let me out, Uriel. I don't care if you cut me to shreds in the process. I am getting out of here and finding him, and there is nothing you can do to stop me unless you're willing to kill me. Got it?"

Uriel sat down on the grass beside her, both of them looking in silence at the Tree for a time. Finally, he spoke.

"You are _nothing_ like Eve. How far your species has come, rude little human."

"I'm determined."

"Why? In all of my life, I have never seen anyone this single-mindedly devoted to my brother. He is not the warmest of creatures. Besides, I watched with the others the final fight that nearly killed you. As I recall, he struck you rather hard during the attack on the car in which you and your companions tried to escape."

"Only after I shot him in the face with a flare. Listen, things weren't normal then. The world was ending. He had a job to do."

"Nor was that the first of your lover's quarrels. You rather forcefully informed me just a few days ago that you struck him, even spit on him? Tell me," Uriel turned to regard her, "How is it that you're alive at all after that little episode? He's not known for his patience, either."

Audrey picked a white violet growing nearby, noticing how sweet a scent it gave off after she'd ripped it from the ground and ended its life.

"I don't know why he didn't kill me. I think…" she trailed off. Uriel watched her, took in the way she bit her lip and hugged her knees to her chest suddenly. He felt an urge to put his arm around her, but then thought better of it.

"You think what, exactly?"

"I think he loves me. And I think I might love him too. But we didn't have a chance to discuss it because you two BASTARDS kidnapped me! Oh God, where the fuck is Michael?!" Audrey got to her feet. She was practically crying with a mixture of rage and worry and sorrow and genuine suffering. Uriel stood as well, sheathing his sword with a sigh and taking her by the arm. He tugged her against him for a moment, the weakest and most grudging hug she had ever received in her life.

"Could we watch our language in Eden, thanks? Michael will be here soon. He should be here, at any rate. I think my brothers may have had words, more than likely some rather strong ones. They are not dead. If either one of them had died, I would know by now. Something else is happening. We must be patient and wait. I am no more delighted at the prospect of spending time with you than you are with me."

"There it is again, that difference. You're really obnoxious . What _is_ it with you?!" Audrey asked him through her tears, leaning against his shoulder in spite of herself. Uriel shrugged his wings.

"You're not exactly a joy to be around either. I am less cold and emotionless because of how I live. Michael and Gabriel concern themselves with the Throne and with the great events of the world. I spend my time watching human beings. I was there when life was breathed into your kind for the first time. I watched you grow up. I watched you live and love and mate and have children and grow old and die or stay young and kill each other. I walked and shared conversations with Adam. I gathered flowers for Eve and taught her to dance. And I joked with your kind, I played with you, I shared your triumphs and tragedies. I still do."

"How?"

Uriel looked sad for a moment.

"By watching," he said softly, and they started to walk again, "And remembering."

* * *

Michael closed the door to the bedroom, grateful to Millie and Howard for helping them but nevertheless requiring privacy for what he was about to do. Yellow sunlight filtered through the dusty screen and the closed glass, a single fly buzzing morosely in the space between the two. It was the only sound in the room. He looked down at the body of his brother before him on the bed, immobile and huge and muscular and damaged beyond belief. He looked so vulnerable now, stripped of his armor and unconscious, bare-chested with a thin white sheet drawn up to his waist. Michael felt tears sting in his eyes, and he sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Gabriel's hand into his own.

"Brother, live." He whispered, and leaned down to press his lips to Gabriel's forehead. So much pain, and so much of it wholly unnecessary for them to have inflicted upon one another. It had always been like this, for as long as either of them could remember. Gabriel on one end of the spectrum, Michael on the other, so far apart that they had come full circle and stood next to one another again.

Michael knew what saving Gabriel meant. To let him die now would grant him a clean, merciful death. One that held no pain and no torment. To save him meant that the quest for Audrey would continue, spelling his certain damnation whether he succeeded or not. The little mortal girl who had captured his heart and his mind and even perhaps his soul…Gabriel would not rest until he held her again. Michael knew this. He knew it, and he knew the consequences. Damnation was not an impermanent state – it was for all time. And God, would it be horrible.

Lucifer had been cast into the darkness so terribly long ago. He desired nothing more deeply than to torment those who had thrown him into the realm of fire and ice that was to be his domain forevermore. Gabriel had been instrumental in his fall, had helped Michael to lay hold of the archangel – their brother – and tear his wings from his body, throw him bodily into hell, divest him of all that made him powerful and respected and adored by God. Lucifer, nursing his grievous hurts, howling with rage, drawing deeper into the red fire and the unholy light of the nether realm, cursing the bright archangels who stood together and barred his escape. Michael, Uriel, Raphael…and Gabriel. Should Lucifer be given power to torment Gabriel, the angel he hated most, the level of physical agony and mental torment would reach a crescendo so unbelievably horrible that it defied any kind of definition.

And this was what Gabriel would be consigning himself to for all eternity if he chose to love Audrey. Hellfire licking his wings, burning his flesh away. Studded whips wielded by greater demons shredding his skin and breaking his bones. The cruelest intrusions of all visited upon his noble body as they bound him, gagged him, even violated him. Michael knew what took place in hell. Dear God, he knew. He had once been there, pleading with Lucifer to release another dear, precious prisoner of the realm. And he had failed.

But Gabriel also knew what hell was like. He'd had the unhappy task of transporting souls there from time to time, leaving them to their fate as he'd been instructed and not looking back. He knew what awaited him if he chose to go to this mortal. Torture was far, far, far too kind and gentle a word for it. And it would last forever.

But Gabriel had fought so hard in the cave. Michael had seen the agony in his eyes, heard it in his voice, was faced with it now in his brother's still, dying form before him. Gabriel deserved to live his life as he saw fit, regardless of the consequences. He was not meant to die like this, with a whimper! He was a seraph, by all that was holy! Fading away in some strange bed, surrounded by old Reader's Digest magazines and dusty porcelain dolls and faded clothing and pet hair was not how he was meant to go! In battle, yes! In glory, yes! In a blaze of his own light, on his own terms, with his powers and his beauty and his fire burning from within, YES! Not with a moan and then stillness. Michael kissed his forehead again, and whispered his name.

If Gabriel was willing to risk hell…Michael was willing to risk everything.

He did weep then, his tears falling one at a time to wet his brother's closed eyelids. . Slowly, Michael unwrapped the I.V. tubing and the needles, the empty blood bag. He set the bag on the floor and connected the tube, then inserted a needle into the vein of his right arm. Gravity and willpower would do the rest, but first he needed to give as much of his life's blood as he could, then give even more.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Survival

When the blood bag was full, Michael clipped it off and affixed another. And then another. Four bags, four pints of his own red, vibrant blood ready to be poured into the starving veins of his dying brother.

He slid the I.V. needle into his brother's arm and hung the first of the blood bags from the dusty blade of the ceiling fan. Liquid life began to flow, replacing the precious lost blood and the even more precious lost energy that Gabriel's diminished spirit had no power to regenerate. Michael, exhausted and weak, collapsed into a chair at the bedside, wincing as he jarred his injured wing. He picked up the razor-sharp knife he'd requested and began to carefully, gently remove the burned flesh from his brother's shoulder, his chest, the side of his ribcage. It was long, tedious work, this debriding of the injured tissues to force new skin to grow, but he undertook it with the patience of a glacier. While he worked, he spoke softly to Gabriel, uncertain whether he could hear him or not. It was enough to speak the words that had so long lain beneath the surface, unsaid.

"I do not remember a time without you." Michael said softly, eyes on his task, wings hunched behind him in concentration. The fly in the window butted against the glass. "The first moments following Creation were not spent alone, not even a second of it. My eyes were too dazzled to see, these new eyes that had never known light before. I cried out, I covered them and waited until they were stronger. But your eyes were closed, I recall that vividly. You waited, you had patience. I wonder, brother, how you knew that you couldn't bear the light yet."

The injuries beside his rib were the worst. Michael could see the gleam of white bone here and there, the delicate nerves burned away and the blood clotted and baked around the injury. He began to carve away the dead tissue.

"Later, in the Garden before humankind was made, you never joined us in our exaltation. Raphael was playful, happy, loved the sunlight and the birds and the animals and the caterpillars. Uriel loved the trees and the plants and the scent of the wildflowers. I could not keep from the clouds, flight was all I lived for then. But you, Gabriel, you watched quietly from the Throne, never far from Him, never straying even for a moment. You even slept there. As we wandered the Garden, learning, watching, warm in the sun, you curled your wings around you and brooded like a theologian long, long before there was even such a thing as theology. And I wondered, brother, why you never laughed."

Something was stuck in between two of his ribs, and Michael reached into the wound, grasped the sharp side of something foreign, and a moment later drew forth an ancient arrowhead of fine Damascus steel. He half-smiled and shook his head, laying it aside with a clang on Millie's bedside change tray. The weapon fragment must have been well over a thousand years old, lodged in there all this time. But Gabriel had never complained if he felt the pain of its presence. Michael changed the blood bag that hung from the ceiling fan.

"After the Fall of Lucifer, in which you played such an important role, you and I were called before the Throne. The armies of the Morning Star were mighty and their numbers great. I was granted the position of General. You were made the Hand of God, the one who would carry out His wishes on Earth. He chose me because I was unafraid to lead, knew how to rally the angels and how to strategize for maximum damage. He knew that I was rebellious, Gabriel. That I would make the best decision at the time even if it conflicted with His orders. But you…He kept you at His side, knowing that you would never question, never waver, never fail in your loyalty and never tire in your devotion. You would not make any decision that might conflict with His wishes. It was not your place to question…only to serve. I wondered, brother, why your method of practicing perfect faith was so much different from mine."

It was time to change bags again, and Michael hooked up another, tossing the empty plastic container aside. Some of the color was returning to Gabriel's face, but his eyes were still closed and he did not move. His skin was cold and clammy, his bruised chest barely rising and falling as he breathed shallow, slow breaths. Michael squeezed the blood bag a little to start the flow and knelt down again, fighting a wave of dizziness that threatened to steal his consciousness. He'd lost too much blood on top of his other injuries. But it did not matter. He had to force himself to work, to remain awake long enough to save his brother.

"God created human beings, and I was the first to bow before them. What He loved, I loved. I remember your expression, Gabriel, when He told us to kneel. Your eyes…they are unreadable to all others save myself. And yet you overcame your distaste and joined me on my knees because He wished it and you would not defy Him. I wondered then, brother, why you did not simply speak your heart rather than keep your silence…even if it meant disagreement."

The sun was setting, beautiful gold fire lighting the west, as gold as the hair of the last remaining seraph who would have to rule alone if Michael and Gabriel were gone. Uriel, who had lost so much the day that Raphael fell from the heavens with Lucifer's knife in his chest. Michael closed his eyes for a moment, resting his head on Gabriel's bleeding shoulder. God, the horror of that day. He'd followed after the battle, of course. He'd flown all the way down to the waving cornfield where Raphael's body had fallen, only to find that he was no longer there. Only two severed wings, horribly ripped during the battle and dislodged entirely when he fell, lay between the rows. An empty collar, mark of Raphael's service to God, lay nearby. (It was this that had given Michael the idea to remove his wings when he himself elected to sever his own ties so many, many years later.) But of Raphael himself…nothing. He was gone. And Michael had searched for him.

"I remember how cold you always were to me, how carefully polite and distant. We quarreled about everything. Perhaps it stemmed from your relationship with God, the fact that you gave everything you had with no thought of yourself and yet I was the favored one, the one who was granted forgiveness time and again even as I broke the rules and invented my own. You were right when you called me the rebellious son, Gabriel. You were right. I have always been this way, but it is because I trust my heart to lead me even to places where He has not bade me to go. You hated that. And I do not judge you for your hatred. I respect you, brother, I respect your steadfastness and your single-minded devotion. Until now I had thought you incapable of breaking God's commandments. But this young girl, your devotion to her, the way that she touched you and kissed you and the way that you did not kill her for it – it was shocking to me. I saw in an instant all that might transpire, and how it would be partially my fault for not seeing how much pain you were in and for so long. Uriel had Raphael. Raphael had Uriel. I had you, my silent, brooding friend. You listened to me, at least, and asked me always what I thought and felt. But I never asked you what was in your heart and why. I had you, Gabriel…but you never fully had me. And for that I am more sorry than I can say. Perhaps it is the millions of years of loneliness that have made you so dark, so distant, so rigidly controlled. But I tell you this; I have never seen you treat a woman with such tenderness as you did when you saved that girl. In the past, there has only been one other human being whom you treated kindly. Mary. You were kind to Mary, quite kind in fact. I thought at times that you loved her. I remember how gently you touched her and how you kept her calm while she gave birth to the Son. But you never held her the way you held Audrey. Mary was for Joseph and for God, for the world, for the suffering and the oppressed and the broken. Mary was not for you. But this tainted, sinful, fallen young lady who has done so much and seen so much and is nothing like the Virgin…she may be another matter entirely. Audrey helped Charlie deliver her child, you know. She knelt in the place that you occupied those many thousands of years ago on the night Christ was born. I thought of that while I held Charlie and told her when to push. I thought of you, of that night."

Michael forced his shaking legs to hold his weight as he rose to his feet and changed the last blood bag. He fell to his knees rather than kneel gracefully, thumping down hard on the bare wood slats of the floor, and bandaged the injury on Gabriel's side. He had to work fast…his fingers fumbled and it was hard to see. But he taped the gauze on all four sides and worked at covering the other injuries as well. It took nearly thirty minutes. He had no energy to speak and work at the same time, and so he fell to his task with a will and did not look up. When he had finished, he crawled onto the bed beside Gabriel and raised his battered wing to cover them both.

"Gabriel…forgive me…" he whispered, and then the darkness came to swallow him whole.

* * *

Audrey lay on her back in the grass, watching Uriel wheeling high above her head, a bright gleam against the blue sky. He flew the way seagulls flew, hovering for a few minutes and then falling. There was something so lonely and distant about his figure, sailing there in the heavens by himself. Audrey was reminded of a poem she'd been forced to read in English class. Jane Hirschfield? 'Lying', it was called.

"He puts his brush to the canvas, with one quick stroke unfolds a bird from the sky." Audrey murmured, finding the words printed somewhere in the back of her memory, "Steps back, considers. Takes pity. Unfolds another."

She thought about Gabriel, sleeping beside her that one, precious time. Icy eyes closed, his entire countenance relaxed and calm, beautiful in his stillness. She wondered if she would ever see him again, ever breathe in his strange, intoxicating scent of stone and starlight and ancient incense, ever taste the sweetness of his skin. She sat up and looked around her at the splendors of Eden, the waterfalls and the distant mountains and the laden fruit trees and the jewel-bright flowers. It seemed incomplete. Paradise was not Paradise without him. But why was she feeling this way now, when she'd been so conflicted before? Why, it was only the last day they were ever together that they'd not fought somehow. He had never told her he loved her, though the more Audrey thought about it, the more she believed it was true. Could an angel love a human being? He had denied being attracted to her.

But the way he'd kissed her said otherwise.

Uriel touched lightly down on the grass beside her, hair tousled from his flight. He stood over her for a moment, then lowered himself to the ground and lay down at her side, watching the sky he'd just occupied. They were silent for awhile.

"Do you love my brother?"

Audrey didn't answer. She was wondering the same thing herself. It made no sense to love a creature who'd tried to kill her, who'd destroyed so much of what she had no doubt about loving. The icy distance that lay between she and Gabriel seemed insurmountable…and yet…

Uriel turned his head and looked at her, and after a moment Audrey rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at his flawless porcelain face in the midday sunlight.

"What does it matter to you?" she asked.

"My brother has killed millions of your kind. Whole armies. Women and children. He has tortured them, he has ripped them apart, he has crushed their skulls with his weapon. My brother has killed countless animals, blighted livestock. He's caused rivers to run red with blood, plagues of locusts to devour every green thing across entire nations. He's brought devastation from the heavens and raised fire from the earth. He fought Lucifer in single combat and won. He is a violent, powerful, unstoppable killing machine with literally no moral limit. God tells him to act, and he acts. Now I ask you again, knowing all of this, do you love him? Think before you speak."

Audrey's eyes stung. She couldn't get her breath. Not for a moment did she doubt the truth of Uriel's words, and it horrified her to no end. Gabriel the avenging angel, the bringer of death, the destroyer of worlds. Archangel. Had he been frightened the first time he'd killed something? Was it a rite of passage for an archangel, that taking away of what God had given? The holy precision it took to build a living thing in the body of its mother unraveled with the same attention, the same Divine directive…only this time it was in reverse.

But the image of his eyes as he held her on the cliff ledge came into her mind. There was warmth there, and honesty, and perhaps even a hint of the pain he was in. Audrey had been like a daughter to him in the beginning, when he'd had to feed her and clothe her and bathe her and care for her needs entirely. She'd been like a mother to him when she'd stroked his hair, kissed his wounds, soothed his suffering with a light touch and gentle words. And she had been like a lover to him as well. If she closed her eyes, she could still recall the feel of his lips on hers, hesitant and inexperienced, almost shy. He was such a mixture of boyish innocence and dominating power. Audrey tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and looked into Uriel's eyes.

"I love him." She said.

"You risk damnation."

"I don't care. I've already lived damnation."

"Hell is a terrible place. I have never been there, but I have heard stories."

"If God is the kind of Being who sends people to hell for loving one another, than I don't want to be close to Him anyway. I love Gabriel. Now what?"

Uriel sighed and sat up.

"Michael has not returned yet. This worries me slightly. If you truly wish to return to earth, then my permission is not enough. You will need to plead your case before a higher power, Audrey."

"But you're, like, the top brass here, right? Archangels don't have anyone over them except God."

"Exactly. This has gone far enough, this bickering among brothers and fighting and speculation and all the rest of it. Audrey, I think it is time for you to go before the Throne."

She didn't understand. Was there royalty here? What did he mean?

"Throne? What throne?"

The archangel stood up and held down his hand to her.

"Come with me, human." He said, helping her to her feet. "Audrey Anderson…prepare to meet thy God."


	17. Chapter 17

Howard kept watch over the sleeping archangels by night. Millie hovered by their bedside during the day. Michaels's blood loss was so significant that he did not regain consciousness, all of his energies turned inward to repair what must be repaired and salvage what must be salvaged. Death was staved off through the bright force of his will alone, with no energy left over to open his eyes, to move at all.

Millie fussed over him in particular, her mother's heart filled to the brim with love and admiration for the slim angel with the gentle voice. It was Millie who had finally smacked her hand down on the kitchen table, stood up, and over Howard's protestations opened the bedroom door during that terrible evening when Michael had given so much of himself to save his brother. Millie saw at once what Michael's secret labors had wrought. Empty blood bags littered the room, medical supplies scattered near the bedside, burned flesh and blood on the floor, Michael as unresponsive as his brother. She knew exactly what he had done, and it warmed her to the core to see the depth of his sacrifice.

The sun was rising. Millie got up from her bed on the sofa, plumped up the pillows for Howard, and shuffled into the kitchen to make some coffee. Howard heard her, and came out of the bedroom wiping his forehead with a bright red rag. He gratefully accepted a steaming cup of coffee from his wife and the two of them sat down at the chipped Formica table near the window, watching the sunlight begin to illuminate the distant peaks of the mountain.

"How'd they do last night?"

"Big one sighed a few times. I reckon he's coming around. My Gabriel…he's a tough boy."

"And Michael?"

"Your fella ain't doing so hot, but it's just a matter of time I think. Pretty sure they'll both recover from this, but I don't see how they managed it."

Millie sipped her coffee in silence, thinking. Howard continued.

"They're both sweating pretty bad. Be needing a sponge bath and a change of clothes. We got to find something to fit Gabe, can't keep using nothing but a towel. It's not proper, like. I'll head on over to Ken and Rita's later this morning, get some of Ken's things to tide us over. He's about the right size."

"What are you gonna tell him, Howie?"

"Tell him I just need some things is all. You know Ken. Got a heart of gold but not much of a deep thinker."

They sat together, there by the window, the veterinarian and his companion of over fifty years. Howard looked across at her, staring out into the morning. He watched the way the growing light brought back the roses in her cheeks. She was like a flower, he thought, pressed between the pages of an old book that you've forgotten on the shelf for a long, long time. And then one day you take the book down and open it and there it is – the faded rose from that first wonderful evening together. The memory comes back, you can almost remember the perfume she wore, the way her dress brushed against your legs when you danced together, the music that was playing in the background. And you are young again, young forever, just the two of you there together for all time, frozen on the best night of your life. That single pressed flower is so beautiful, its loveliness so well-preserved and familiar and dear, that it acts as a guardian for all of the memories and keeps them fresh and wonderful for eternity.

And that was his wife.

Howard set his empty coffee cup down and patted Millie's hand.

"Gonna run an errand then catch a nap, honey. You take good care of the boys. Anything happens, just holler and I'll come running."

Millie stood up and began to fill a basin with warm water.

"Not to worry, Howie darlin'. I'm pretty capable."

"That you are, love, that you are." He agreed, getting up. He gave Millie a hug and picked up his car keys, put his coat on, glanced at the closed door of the back bedroom again, "Should be back within the hour with some clothes. You know how early Ken's up. I need to stop by the clinic too, see about getting some more supplies. These boys are healing so fast. Nothing like I've ever seen before, Mill. It's a blessing that they're here together. Wonder if there are any more out there."

Howard left, and a moment later she heard his old battered truck start up outside.

Millie carried the basin into the bedroom and gently closed the door behind her. The light filtering in through the window shimmered on the moth-powder of the dust motes, turning the worn room into a cozy yellow oasis of warmth and safety. Her two angels lay still and silent on the bed, side by side, Michael's hand on top of Gabriel's. Millie always made sure to arrange them in such a way, though she wondered at times whether it was for her comfort or theirs. She peeled back the covers over Michael and began to gently bathe the sweat and dried blood from his torso, his stomach, his arms and face. She patiently rolled him from one side to the other, cleaning the places beneath his wings where the blood had collected. Respectfully, she changed his damp clothing. Her tasks done, Millie drew the covers up and over him again, tucking him in as securely as though he were her own son.

"We got to get some meat on you, Michael," she said disapprovingly, noting his lithe frame, "It's sure gonna be hard to do if your kind don't eat or drink anything. Maybe it's just that you haven't tried. Looks as though you haven't been properly cared for. But we got ya now, you and Gabe both. I hope you're sleeping well in there, with no pain."

She moved to the other side of the bed and pulled back the blanket covering Gabriel. The color had returned to his face, his broad chest, his arms. And yet his eyes remained closed. He seemed lost to the world outside, his mind deeply buried in some secret place beyond the reach of pain or pleasure, comfort or discomfort, shouts or whispers.

Millie began to gently dab warm water across his chest, carefully removing the lingering scabs that were even now closing. His healing rate really was rapid. The only injury that still looked terrible was the one in his side, where the burned flesh had yet to close fully over his ribs and the tender tissue beneath.

Without warning, his eyes suddenly snapped open and he grabbed her wrist. Millie gasped and dropped the sponge, backing away so fast that she nearly fell.

"Ubi sumne?" he demanded. Millie shook her head in shock and confusion. She did not know Latin.

"W…what?"

"Ubi ego sumne? Quae tu esne?"

"You're safe, Gabe, you're safe. We got you now. Relax. Let go my hand, you're squeezing something fierce!"

He looked up at her with a steady gaze that unnerved the old woman to the core. Those eyes, those cold, cold eyes. _He didn't recognize her._

"Gabriel?" Millie said soothingly. The angel continued to stare at her, and she saw her death reflected in that look, that expression.

His muscles rippled – he was rising, sitting up. All of the air suddenly left Millie's lungs in one explosive exhalation, and she backed into the bureau behind her, animal fear evident on her face. The sight of Gabriel rising from the bed with that look in his eyes was somehow more terrifying and more lethal than when he'd burst through the door that first night in full battle armor. He wore no armor now, nothing but a faded blue towel wrapped around his waist, in fact. He held no weapon. But his expression, the way his feathers bristled, the tension in his arms and the way he looked down at her without really seeing her…Millie's fight or flight instincts were brought to the foreground. She could not fight this archangel. He was huge! Dear, sweet _Jesus_ he was the largest man she had ever seen.

"MICHAEL! WAKE UP!" Millie screamed, desperate for help. _Please God help!_ The other angel on the bed did not move.

"Tu moritum iri." Gabriel said softly, taking a step toward her. _You are going to die_.

Millie reached behind her, grabbed the first thing she felt, and threw it at him with all of her might. An Avon perfume holder in the shape of a cat struck him in the chest, shattering. The room filled with the scent of Sweet Honesty, a little blood trickled down his chest where a shard had pierced him, but still he advanced upon her another step. Millie couldn't back away any farther, and the door was on the other side of the room. She began grabbing anything she could find, throwing a silver-backed hairbrush, a seventy year old hand mirror, a porcelain statue of a lion laying down with a lamb.

Gabriel raised his hand to strike, to deliver a vicious backhand, and Millie knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the blow was going to kill her. She didn't look away, she didn't cower. If this was to be the last moment of her life, then she was going to meet it with her eyes open.

She was grateful suddenly that she would at least look upon something wondrous. Gabriel was beautiful, truly beautiful even in his brokenness and in his wrath. In that strange, slow moment before death came, Millie glimpsed him without the veil of metaphysical distance between them. She truly saw him, _saw_ him through the millions of years of loneliness, the bloody deeds he was compelled to perform and the cruelty he was forced to perpetrate. She saw through his single-mindedness of purpose and his rigid self-discipline. She saw him through the armor of his violence, through the tangle of hatred and rage, past the glamour of his fury and into the unloved and un-honored and unacknowledged open wound of his heart. Millie's own heart broke then, and she reached out for him even as he prepared to strike her down forever.

"Oh honey," Millie whispered, tears running down her cheeks, "What did He do to you?"

The seraph paused, indecision blazing in his eyes. Murderous rage warred with some deeply buried compulsion to refrain from harming her. He did not know what to do, did not know how to proceed. Should he kill her? She looked familiar. And what was that, there reflected in the mirror behind the trembling, weeping old woman?

An angel, lying still on a bed, battered and broken. He whirled around and stared down at Michael, recognition flickering in his eyes, only to be replaced by confusion, then recognition again. He could not take this. He could NOT take this!

With a snarl of pure anger, Gabriel smashed the glass of the window, pushed himself through, and awkwardly tried to fly. He could not…the damage to his wing was far too great. Injured, bleeding, unsure of who he was or even where he was, the archangel bolted for the only available shelter he could see – the darkened horse barn across the yard.

Millie rushed to the window, calling his name, but he was gone. In sorrow and worry, she reached down and shakily picked up the faded blue towel that had snagged on the broken glass of the window frame…

Uriel led Audrey to another part of the Garden, ignoring her protest that she had nothing at all to say to God, thanks very much. She was terrified and angry, that much he could see without exerting any angelic powers whatsoever.

"Don't you think this has gone on long enough? Michael is not back yet. Gabriel has not come here, mace in hand and eyes flashing, looking for you. I don't know what is happening. Raphael is lost to us and I have very deep, very grave suspicions that all is not as it seems with the matter of his passing. I am the last of the First Tier and therefore in charge, Audrey. Unless you'd like me to dump you into the collective lap of the Second Tier and have them babysit you while I wander off and try to untangle this mess, taking Heaven knows how many decades to do so, then you must go directly to the Lord in supplication."

Audrey had to run to keep up with him, his legs were so damn long. She had a pain in her stomach and her palms were sweating. It was like being escorted to the principal's office by a really mean teacher when you just _knew_ you were in HUGE trouble…only worse.

"I don't even know what to say to Him!"

"You'll think of something. You're certainly not short on words," Uriel told her drily, "Lamentably, ever."

"He's sick of human beings! He'll just outright kill me!"

"Probably not. He never soils His own hands anymore. And He only send archangels to do the direct killing. As I appear to be the only one, you're safe. He has never asked me to shed blood before."

"That doesn't mean there's some kind of agreed-upon treaty, you know! It's not like I'm totally safe just because you've never done it! This doesn't mean you won't have to fill in for Michael or Gabriel and have to go on a killing spree! You carry a sword, not a fucking Nerf bat!"

Uriel turned to regard her with his serene gaze, golden hair glinting in the light.

"Far be it from me to censor you, child," he told her, "But could you perhaps _watch your language in front of God Almighty_? I realize you're from the suburbs and that you've had a rather liberal upbringing. I know it's 'OMFG' and 'LOL' with your kind these days…but you are about to be brought into the Presence of the very Holiest of Holies, the Creator of All Things, the Alpha and the Omega, Yahweh, the Great I Am. A little touch of 'yes sir, no sir, right away sir' would not be at all remiss."

"He already hates me. What the hell do manners have to do with anything anymore? Look, this is a really dumb idea."

"I know. Now wait here, you can't go directly before the Throne because it would kill you. This is far enough. Just wait for me. And have a little courage, child." Uriel instructed, his voice softening slightly as he said the last word.

They were in a gorgeous forest glade, the heavy fragrance of balsam all around them in the complete stillness. Sunlight filtered down from high above, bright and crisp and sharp where it poured through the boles of the enormous pines. Audrey watched as Uriel spread his wings and vanished into the soft gray shadows of the distant trees.

When he had gone, she paced back and forth, trying to fight down the rising wave of panic that squeezed her heart and pinched her stomach. Meet God? _Meet God?_ How was she even going to handle this? Was it something that anyone else had ever been offered the chance to do? How had they fared? She tried to remember from Sunday school whether any human being had ever been granted an audience with God because they had a bone to pick with Him. Her brain supplied nothing. Noah might have had a reason, and that one fellow who was swallowed by a giant fish. God never sounded very nice in the Bible, not at all the kind of Creator she wanted to speak with.

She felt like throwing up.

After what seemed like hours, Audrey began to grow so restless that she could no longer hold still and simply wait. Perhaps a short walk would clear her mind a little. Nothing too far, certainly not so far from the glade that she wouldn't be able to hear Uriel if he should shout for her. Just up the path a little, to that place round the bend where bright green light indicated the presence of a wide field or clearing. She pushed through the branches, shielding her eyes from the brightness, and stepped into the loveliest meadow she had ever seen in her life. No, not just a meadow. As Audrey came fully into the clearing, she saw how well-tended the rows of flowers were, how meticulously groomed the white rose bushes, the irises and the hyacinths. It was an explosion of flowers in concentric circles, all of them curving in toward an enormous white temple in the distance, gleaming in the warm sunlight.

"Oh God," she moaned, staring at the far castle, "It's God."

Movement caught her eye, and she glanced over to see a huge canine lolling on the ground some way off, chewing a white bone.

A dog? Here? There hadn't seemed to be any dogs in Eden, any animals at all in fact. Not even bugs. And yet here he was, a big shining Rottweiler with soft brown eyes, chewing on his bone and looking at her.

Audrey stared at the dog. The dog stared at Audrey.

"Uh…hi, boy." She told him, for she could see clearly that he was male. The Rottweiler licked his muzzle, shook his head, and turned his attention back to the bone between his paws. Audrey had no idea what to say, how to react. Was this a special animal, some kind of guardian of the temple grounds?

"Zeus." A deep, gruff voice suddenly said. Audrey jumped, surprise sending a jolt through her system. She immediately stepped a bit back into the shadow of the trees, looking around to locate the person who had addressed her.

"Relax, sweetheart. I said his name is Zeus. Come on out here."

The speaker was a huge Hispanic man on his knees in a flower bed, methodically pulling weeds from between the rows of hyacinths. His silver hair was combed back from his wide brown forehead, meticulously groomed white beard and round spectacles giving him the look of either a kindly professor or a firebrand minister. He was smiling slightly, looking at her over the top of the glasses.

"I…I'm sorry?" Audrey asked. Eden had a gardener? Was this man an angel? Where were his wings? Had he died? Why did he have a dog here?

"Don't apologize. Come help me with these weeds, and don't mind Zeus. He's a friendly dog, very protective, very loyal. He only attacks when I tell him to. I like that in an animal. Comes in handy in any kind of guardian, actually. What's your name?"

Audrey warily came forward as the gardener had told her to, bending down to grasp a tough weed by the stalk and tug it out.

"I'm…I'm Audrey…Audrey Anderson."

"Good to meet you. Call me Benjamin."

"Are you the gardener here?"

Benjamin smiled and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of one hand.

"You could say that." He returned his attention to the task of weeding. They worked in silence for awhile, and every now and again Audrey lifted her gaze to the sky, expecting Uriel to swoop down and take her to God at any moment. She was nervous. Terrified, actually. But the steady rhythm of weeding helped to settle her stomach just slightly.

After a while, Benjamin sat back and wiped his forehead again.

"Pardon me for saying so, but you look a little unhappy."

"I'm waiting for someone. It's been a pretty rotten few weeks and things are about to get worse, I think." Audrey didn't know why she was telling him even this much, but somehow giving voice to the sentiment felt like popping a blister. "Worse than rotten, actually. It's been total shit."

Benjamin took his glasses off and began to clean them , not looking at her.

"We all have bad weeks sometimes. What's been so bad about yours? It couldn't have been too terrible if it led you to Eden. Not many of your kind have ever even seen this place."

"Are you freaking kidding me? Ok, here it is! God Himself gave up on human beings – just gave up, like all that 'Jesus died for your sins and now you're all saved' stuff was nothing but bullshit! Then He sent zombie angels to destroy us. The archangel Michael decided he was going to do something to stop it and he came down to protect this pregnant _waitress_ who was supposedly going to give birth to the next great savior of mankind. My dad was murdered by zombie angels, my mother tried to steal Charlie's baby and Michael had to shoot her, right in FRONT of me, and now I'm a damn orphan and I miss them like crazy! It was AWFUL! God sent the archangel Gabriel to destroy the baby and Michael and everyone else, which he did a pretty good job of, and when we tried to escape him he _ripped the top off our car and punched me in the face_! I mean, what the fuck?"

Benjamin put his glasses back on, adjusted them, and nodded once.

"He's pretty effective. Go on."

Audrey, encouraged by his nonjudgmental expression, continued.

"So then the car flips over, I get thrown into the sand and torn all to hell and broke my thigh bone in the process. I just remember pain, really, and not much more than that. Anyway, the next thing I know, I'm being hauled off to some freezing cave by Gabriel himself. That's right, the angel who had just tried to kill us kidnapped me. But it's not what you think. This is where the story gets _really_ weird. Instead of killing me or torturing me or anything like it, Gabriel _healed_ me! He cleaned my injuries and set my broken leg and fed me and washed me. I was unconscious for awhile...he even washed me when I made a mess and he never complained. He held me while I slept and he told me that I'm not as bad as I've always thought. I kind of understand him that way, because he's not as bad as I thought either. He was so kind, Ben, you wouldn't believe it. I don't know if you've met him or not, but he's pretty damn scary at first."

"I know. He's exactly what he's supposed to be."

"You would think, right? But no, he wasn't vicious to me at all. I started to lose my fear of him, a little, I guess. But God, I was miserable. Things got really bad and I made some mistakes, like trying to tempt him just to piss him off. He flew away and left me alone, and that's when things got really dark for me. I've never felt like that before. I tried to kill myself by jumping out of the cave…" her voice went a little softer at this, and she drew her knees up to her chest as she remembered the horrible cold, the sense of falling from a great height, the numb hope that death would come swiftly and without too much pain.

Then the jolt and the tightening of arms around her body as her angel caught her.

Zeus wandered over and flopped down on the grass beside her, rolling onto his back and all but inviting her to scratch his expansive tummy. Audrey patted him, playing with his soft black ears.

"When I jumped, he caught me. It was like he'd been waiting for it. We landed on a little ledge. I don't know what happened, Ben. I was so fucking tired. I hated him and I hated myself and I was just…so…tired. But he was tired too. We were both broken and miserable."

"What would Gabriel have to be miserable about? He does the will of God. That's a pretty important job to undertake, wrestling with powers and principalities on behalf of the Father."

Audrey sighed in frustration. Didn't he get it?

"It's not as glamorous as all that, you know. How would you feel if your Father only really talked to you when He was telling you to go kill this person, go annihilate this army, go send a message to this scared little girl? He worships a God who makes him do literally terrible things, even kill his own brother! So yeah, I think he's got a right to be exhausted and cold and emotionless. But something happened on the ledge. I felt really close to him, really protective suddenly. I realized that he'd probably never been touched gently, and so I stroked his hair. Then I…well, I kind of kissed him."

Benjamin stared at her, his eyes suddenly hardening.

"You did what?"

Audrey concentrated on petting the dog.

"I kissed him. I kissed his injuries, I kissed his eyes and his cheeks and his nose and his lips. And while I was kissing him, he actually seemed to melt a little. It was beautiful. God, I didn't even know how wonderful and healing a kiss could be until then. He didn't try to rip my clothes off or hurt me or do any of the other things that most guys would do. Have done. Damn it, Ben, I don't know why I'm telling you all of this. But I've kind of been around a bit if you know what I mean. There's not a lot I haven't done. Let me tell you, though, that when I kissed Gabriel and he kissed me back, I felt as though I'd never been touched before. He was that gentle."

"Seraphim have no business kissing mortals. It's forbidden, kid. There are some very strict rules in place for some pretty good reasons. What he did was completely wrong."

"I know you all think that. It's why Michael and Uriel came and separated us. Uriel brought me here. Michael is still back there. God, I don't even know what's happening with them, they could be killing each other! It's horrible not to know. But Uriel won't let me go unless Michael tells him that he can, and Michael isn't back yet. So I have to go before the Throne or whatever and talk directly to God about this! And the worst part is that even _telling_ God what's happened so far might get Gabriel into more trouble than he's ever been in."

"How about you give me one good reason why he shouldn't be in trouble? Look at Zeus here. I tell him what to do, he does it. Sic 'em, lay down, roll over, play dead…doesn't matter. He just does it because he's well trained. Well what if Zeus one day got it into his head that he didn't have to do what I said anymore? Do you see what a big dog he is, how strong he is? If I don't have a good firm hold over him, all chaos might break loose and then where would we be? It's the same way with angels, especially the greater angels. If Uriel disobeyed, he'd get punished. If Raphael disobeyed, he'd get punished. If Michael disobeyed – "

"He'd get REWARDED!" Audrey snapped, her anger rising. She got to her feet and started pacing, impatient. "Michael is alive even though Gabriel killed him! And he disobeyed a direct order! Gabriel, the one who never disobeys, is the one who got punished! And he didn't even do anything! Is kissing wrong? Because that's ALL we did! Exactly TWICE! And it was enough to get us torn apart and fucking REPRIMANDED! I could understand this bullshit if we were having some sweaty passionate affair in seedy motel rooms for the past three years or something, but we haven't! Damn it, I've never even seen him naked! Shirtless, yes…and I'd be lying if I said he wasn't hotter than hell. But there wasn't anything else…and he made it clear that there wasn't ever going to be anything else. He said that he wasn't going to give into sin. He's a VIRGIN, for God's sake! And he wants to STAY that way!"

Zeus didn't like all the shouting. He got up and wandered off to pee on the rosebushes, nosing about in the dirt when he'd finished. Ben and Audrey watched him for a time in silence. Damn it, where was Uriel? She wanted this over with! But maybe it was a good thing that she was venting all of her anger on the gardener instead of God Almighty. '_Yes sir, no sir, right away sir,_' she repeated to herself, and tried to stop shaking.

"You didn't make love?" Benjamin asked gruffly. "You don't plan to?"

"No, we didn't. But I don't know what our 'plans' are. We haven't got any. Being forcibly separated by meddlesome archangels kind of puts a kink in a growing relationship, you realize."

"But you do have feelings for him."

Audrey sighed, wrapping her arms around herself for a moment.

"Feelings? That's not enough. I love him. He saved my life and he saved my soul and I love him. I don't care about hell, I don't care if he loves me the same way, I don't care if we ever sleep together. I just want to be near him. And I don't care if I have to rip Eden apart to get back to him. I love that terrifying, beautiful, sad angel and there isn't a damn thing anyone can do about it. And what's more, I'm almost certain that he loves me. I want to spend the rest of my life with him, even if it means I have to be kept in a cave away from all other human beings. It's ok. I'll even read the goddamn math books be brought me. I want to be with him, Benjamin. And he wants to be with me. He deserves it, he deserves this because he's never failed to do what he's told and he's never asked for a damn thing in return. Not one thing. He deserves some happiness. I want to give it to him."

Ben sighed and got to his feet as well. He wasn't as big as Gabriel, but he still towered over Audrey. His glasses flashed in the sunshine as he looked down at her.

"Thou shalt not fornicate with angels, kid."

"I'm not a preacher, but I'm pretty sure that one wasn't on the original list!"

"Consider it an amendment."

"Says the gardener! I'll take this up with God, if you don't mind!"

"Wow, you really are thick." Ben patted his thigh, and Zeus bounded over immediately. The moment the dog arrived, he sat down and put his head against his master's knee. Ben pulled a dog biscuit out of his pocket and gave it to the Rottweiler. "A good dog gets a treat when he behaves. That's what keeps him in his place," he said, stroking his head, "Ok. Get out of here, just go. But you walk that razor's edge damn carefully, or you'll wish you'd never been born. And Gabriel will suffer a million times more than you will, suffer as only an archangel can. That's a promise, kid."

Audrey didn't know what to make if this, so she just glared at him. The old gardener picked up his spade and turned back to the weeds, the conversation clearly over. After a moment, Audrey turned around and walked away a huff, heading back to the little glade where Uriel had left her. Where in holy hell WAS he? This was RIDICULOUS!

She punched a tree, rage and impatience making her oblivious to the pain of a skinned knuckle a moment later. What was she going to say to God? How was she going to spin this situation without revealing too much? If even the lowly gardener was appalled at a kiss, then how would God react? Audrey tried to frame the story a few different ways in her mind, but each one seemed incomplete and slightly shady.

"Ready to go?" she heard a voice behind her. Uriel stood there, brushing pine needles from his robe. Audrey glared at him in annoyance.

"Finally! Where the hell have you been? I've been waiting here forever! Is it time to talk to God yet?"

Uriel stared at her for a moment, then shook his head.

"Oh Audrey," he said softly, "You just did."


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: The corrections to the Latin in Chapters 17 and 18 comes to us through the generosity of Aislinn Gesine . Thank you from the bottom of my heart. - N.R.

* * *

Howard returned a scant fifteen minutes after Gabriel's abrupt departure, holding a heavy box filled with clothes and medical supplies. He set it down wearily on the table and called for Millie in a low voice, not wanting to wake the angels.

"Mill, honey? I got some pants and things. Ken says he don't need these shirts anymore, thought maybe we could cut holes for their wings and…" he trailed off as Millie appeared in the hallway, looking stricken, the blue towel in her hands.

"Oh Howard!" she sobbed, and threw herself into his arms. He patted her back reassuringly, his eyes filling with tears and his heart suddenly deflating like a balloon in the rain. One of them must be dead. He had not seen Millie this upset since they'd lost their infant son to pneumonia over forty years ago. He wondered which one had given up his will to live, had succumbed to his wounds and now lay limp and cold back there in the bedroom. He would have to deal with it swiftly, before the other one woke up. There was no time for mourning yet, no matter how much pain he was in. Maybe he could borrow Ted's backhoe to dig a grave.

"Ah damn it, Mill…which one?" he whispered brokenly.

Millie cried harder, clutching her chest. "G-Gabriel."

Howard's face crumpled. He sat down heavily on the couch and put his head in his hands.

"No, no! Howie darlin', it's not like that! Gabe ain't dead!" Millie told him quickly, knowing in an instant that look on his face, "But there's something wrong with his mind – talking all funny and it sounded like Greek or Latin. He was about to attack me, Howie, but he wasn't in his right mental state! Had to throw some things at him. And then he smashed out the glass in the window and tore through it and just vanished! And he left his towel. Somewhere out there is a bare naked injured angel, bleeding and covered in perfume. You need to find him!"

Howard felt a huge weight lift from his chest, and he leaped to his feet instantly.

"Well heck yes, I'll say I do! One of us ought to stay by Michael in case he wakes up. It would never do, having him come to when he's all alone in there. You keep close to his side!"

"I will. His brother went out the window. By the time I got there he was gone and I didn't see where he went."

Howard nodded, distracted. He rushed to the bedroom and surveyed the damage, looked out of the broken window and noted the blood and perfume spread across the floor. Without further hesitation, he ran back to the living room and whipped open the front door in the growing light of morning. Just before he bolted outside, he paused by the little bookshelf that sat next to the television in their tidy living room.

"Might need this." He muttered, and grabbed his battered Latin dictionary, used hitherto only for medical terminology.

Once outside, Howard immediately went to the back of the trailer, to the broken window and the glitter of glass shards that lay in the dust. Kneeling down, he noted bare footprints in the dirt, the stumbling gait of someone injured, drops of brilliant red blood shining like rubies in the growing light. The footprints left the ground, reappeared a few feet on, vanished again, reappeared.

"He was trying to fly." Howard said softly to himself. For some reason the thought burned in his chest. The mere idea of such a proud, reserved angel being reduced to such a state…

Howard knew what it was to be injured. He knew what it was to be scared. Back in the war he'd been both, and he knew from experience that the first thing a soldier did – the very _first_ thing – was to find a protected location and hunker down for a bit to take stock of the extent of his injuries. Animals did the same thing. Everything, when it got hurt, did pretty much the same. Fight off whatever was attacking unless it was too strong, then find a hole to crawl into and set about the job of healing. Gabriel was a soldier, that much was plain. He would have looked for somewhere to conceal himself first, before anything else.

He glanced around, noting how the foot prints and the blood spatters trailed off toward the only shelter in the wide flat landscape. Two possible places, the chicken coop and the horse barn. Howard opened the Latin dictionary, thumbed through the pages a bit, found the right words he needed and walked cautiously to the horse barn. The big double doors creaked slightly as he pushed them open and stepped into the darkness.

There hadn't been any horses living in here for a long, long time, and all was still and silent. A few flies buzzed about in the hay-dusted air. Piles of straw and dried sweet grass lay strewn about in the stalls and across the floor. Howard walked as carefully as he could down the wide hallway, peering into each stall as he went, expecting at any moment to be attacked.

"Gabe?" he called, moving slowly through the darkness. "Es…uh…es vos…um, let me see here…es vos sanus?" _(Are you healthy?)_

There came no reply. Howard reached the last stall and looked inside. Nothing. But there was blood on the floor, and the hay had been scattered. A creaking sound from above drew the old man's gaze upward.

The loft.

Blood stained the ceiling, dripped through the floorboards of the hayloft. The creaking sound came again, followed by a thump.

Oh God, he was up there. Howard felt his mouth suddenly go dry, his palms finding the extra moisture as they began to leak sweat. He breathed in, exhaled, breathed in again.

_"I've got to go up there," _he told himself, "_But he might kill me. Can I do this? Lord Almighty, I don't want to die. Millie would be left alone. But I can't leave him up there bleeding by himself. It ain't right. Heavenly Father, help me. Please help me. This is Your messenger I'm trying to save."_

Howard put his hand to the rungs of the ladder and stepped up, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that he could barely hear himself think. Sometimes the right thing to do was the most terrifying, the most awful experience one could imagine. Being noble meant facing the things that turned your bowels to water and cramped your stomach and stole your breath and slapped your soul silly. It meant grabbing the rungs of the ladder up even though there was a monster waiting there to kill you the moment your head appeared. Howard was no coward and no fool…he knew that Gabriel was lethal, more lethal than ever in his madness. But love moved his hands to mercy, and he ascended one rung at a time until he stood on the very edge of the loft platform. Slowly, he turned his gaze toward the far corner, where the blood had stained the ceiling.

Gabriel lay curled on his side, wings hanging limply behind him, hay scattered throughout his glossy feathers, his hair, sticking to his injuries, glued in place with drying blood. He was battered and bleeding and naked and dirty…but still powerful. As Howard approached he seemed to swell, pulling himself into a crouch and raising his wings.

Howard was reminded of a cat making itself look bigger just prior to an attack.

"Hey there, Gabriel," he said soothingly, holding up both hands to show that he held no weapon. Slowly, so as not to startle him, Howard brought the book into view and flipped through it in quiet desperation.

"Tu salvus es." He said. _You safe._

The archangel's wings shivered. He understood. But there was no sign of relenting in those icy eyes. He shifted position, turning to face the old man fully.

"Nescio qua sum." He said softly. _I do not know where I am._

Howard leafed through the old book for an excruciatingly long time, finding only two of the words, guessing at the rest.

"Cum amicis." _You with friends._

Some of the tension went out of his stance, but still Gabriel glared at him without blinking. Howard could see that his chest, stomach, and thighs were cut from the broken glass, and the burn injury to his side had torn open again and was bleeding profusely.

"Quare tu credam?" _Why would I trust you?_

Howard again looked through the book, trying to hurry but finding it impossible to rush the process. Five minutes later, he'd parsed out the meaning of the phrase. He took a deep breath, looked up the words he needed, and set the book down. Then he moved forward a little, as close as he dared.

"Habes fidem." He said gently, and held up his hands again to show that they were empty. "Servo fides." _Have faith._

Gabriel watched him, the wounded bear glaring down the archer. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision.

"Doleo." He said softly, in a different tone of voice. _I hurt._

Howard knew the word. He moved closer, very slowly, and spoke in a low and calming voice.

"I know you do, son. I know how much it hurts. Here, take my hand."

The seraph stared at him, his eyes full of confusion, then anger, then sorrow, then confusion again.

"English. I remember you. Animal healer."

"Yes that's right, boy. And you remember Millie?"

"Your wife. Frying pan. And Old Pete is mad for feathers."

"The cat, yes. You're doing fine, just fine. Do you remember your brother?"

Gabriel's eyes darkened, and Howard couldn't help noticing that his hands reflexively curled into fists.

"Blood, burning, falling. Michael." He growled. "Another way. There is no other way."

Howard didn't know what to make of this, but at least Gabriel was talking instead of attacking. Slowly, he leaned forward, ready to freeze in place if the injured archangel seemed agitated by his increasing closeness. He moved closer still. He had calmed wounded bulls, approached bears and wolves caught in traps, gentled mountain lions with broken legs…soothed frightened young enemy soldiers who held loaded weapons and wanted to die because they were being forced to kill.

He lowered his eyes, not wanting to appear aggressive by meeting the angel's pale stare, and turned to the side ever so slightly. No sudden movements, nothing to raise Gabriel's hackles and make him think he needed to attack. There was no fear in the seraph's eyes, but there was pain and aggression. Pain and aggression that could turn at once into lethal force should Howard misstep. He kept his hands up and open, where they could be seen at all times.

Gabriel's muscles tensed. He lifted his chin slightly in a gesture of domination and threat, and Howard pulled up short.

"I'm here to help you, son." He reached out to take the angel's hand. "It's gonna be ok."

CRACK!

Howard's hand was slapped away with enough force to break the skin over his wrist bone, and Gabriel recoiled further into the gloom, out of the beam of sunlight that had illuminated him. One wing remained in the light, and a gleam of white shoulder. Howard pulled his injured wrist against his chest and sighed.

"Ok, Gabe, ok. We'll do this your way." Howard said softly. He moved back slightly and sat down on a hay bale, leaning back against the wall and making himself as comfortable as he could in the dusty stillness of the lonely barn. He could feel the angel's eyes on him, but he did not return the gaze.

"You know, when I was a little kid I used to spend a lot of time hiding under the porch. I think it was because it was so peaceful under there, and no one would bother me. Ma understood why I wanted to be left alone down there, of course. Ma understood everything. She used to leave food out by the latticework so I could stay under all day, just so long as I came in for supper at night."

There was no reply.

"Millie's the same way, you know. When I get to feeling a little standoffish she never kicks up a fuss or nothing. Just leaves me be for a bit til my head clears and I feel like being sociable again. But she'll sit somewhere nearby, just so's I know she's there, like. It's a wonderful blessing to just have a warm body near at hand even when you don't feel like being around people. Lets you know you're still part of something, still loved even if you don't wanna be looked at."

A shifting, and Gabriel moved slightly into the light, only the gleam of his eyes and his left cheek visible in the soft lemon sunshine.

"You are not going away?"

Howard looked over at him, the dust motes sparkling in his white hair.

"No, son," he said, and smiled wearily, "No, I'm not going away. I'll just have a rest here with you. We can talk if you want to, or just set a bit and not say nothin' at all."

Gabriel watched him carefully, calculatingly, and Howard shut his eyes and forced himself to relax. After a time, he heard plainly the angel moving closer. It took every ounce of self-control that the old man possessed to keep himself from bolting. He waited. He waited until he knew that Gabriel was right beside him, and then he slowly opened his eyes and looked at him without turning his head.

The seraph sat on the floor next to the hay bale, his wings wrapped protectively around himself, glaring up at Howard in open challenge. The old veterinarian was reminded of a red tailed hawk he'd once found with a broken wing, laying on the ground wrapped in fishing line and unable to fly. The little bird had glowered fiercely, even immobilized and most certainly vulnerable to any predator that came along. When Howard had reached down to pick him up, the bird stabbed at him with his beak. It had not expected mercy and offered none in return.

This was the look that Gabriel gave to Howard now, the same expectation of damage and hurt and the same unspoken promise of the same.

_"Lord," _Howard prayed, _"Help me. If you can't be a proper Father to this young man anymore for whatever reason, then show me how to be. Send me, God. I'm ready."_

* * *

Audrey stared at Uriel for a full minute, stunned speechless at what he'd just said. That was God? _God?_

Then, without hesitation, she spun around and began to march resolutely back to the glade. Uriel hurried after her.

"What do you think you're doing, human? Your audience is over!"

"Like hell it is! Don't you even _dare_ try to stop me, either! If that son of a bitch was really Him, then I have a few goddamn questions that need answers!"

Uriel moved to put his hand on her shoulder, and Audrey whipped around and shoved him with all her might. Caught off guard, the seraph stumbled back a step, and Audrey continued her angry walking.

"Stop! This isn't – "

"Isn't WHAT? Proper? ALLOWED? _FUCK THAT_! I have HAD IT with rules and regulations and laws and commandments and amendments to commandments and all the rest of that bullshit! Are you going to stand aside or are you going to kill me? Because there isn't a middle ground, Uriel. And don't bother threatening me with your sharp little paddle there either because I am NOT intimidated! Now get out of my way or get ready to soak this ground with every drop of blood I have in my whole fucking BODY! I'm goddamn READY! _BRING IT ON_!"

Audrey wasn't playing. She wasn't being sarcastic or difficult or contentious. She wasn't pouting or throwing a temper tantrum. Uriel saw all of this immediately. Her pupils were wildly dilated with barely contained rage, all of the muscles in her skinny little body tensed and ready for action. Suddenly the idea of her ire wasn't cute or funny or even moderately amusing. The little pouting brat was gone, replaced by a creature who didn't look as though she gave a shit whether she broke a nail or messed up her hair or incurred the wrath of an archangel…or God Himself.

"Audrey…" Uriel tried to calm her, moving to stand in her way again and holding up his hands, "Wait. Just wait! Wait a moment!"

She dodged, trying to get around him.

"MOVE!"

"I said WAIT A DAMN MINUTE!"

Audrey drew up short, her mouth opening in shock. He'd cursed! The archangel before her had actually used a swear word!

"_URIEL!" _she gasped, shocked and impressed.

Uriel's cheeks reddened, but he took a deep breath and continued.

"You can't just go marching in there and confront Him. He'll kill you for certain. Just calm down. Look, you've been given leave to go! Do you understand? You're allowed to go back to Gabriel and I can take you there! You got what you wanted! Don't you understand how big this is? How rare? Don't screw it up now by throwing a tantrum in front of the Lord!"

"He said that we've got conditions, that we're not totally free to be together! He threatened Gabriel and said something about him having to 'suffer as only an angel can'; or some shit like that! And He said that I would wish I hadn't been born. I want to know why! And I want to know what the hell happened to Raphael that's got everyone so worked up! I want to know a whole lot of stuff, Uriel. And I'm not leaving until I get some answers!"

Uriel dropped his hands to his sides and looked down at her, his eyes darkening at the mention of Raphael's name. The loss of his closest brother, his best friend, his counterpart and the other half of his heart was still a wound so deep that it haunted his dreams. He had never dared to ask the Creator about the true fate of his brother, had never questioned the story of Raphael's murder. But this little upstart was now offering to inquire – no, _demand_ – the true information without hesitation. Could it be that his brother had not died on that battlefield, nor among the waving green cornfields below?

But to let Audrey rush back there, risking her life and even her soul simply because he wished to satisfy his burning desire for information pertaining to Raphael seemed the very pinnacle of selfishness. He sighed.

"Please, Audrey. Just let me take you home."

"You PUSSIES have never fought for Gabriel! I'm about to! _Are you coming or not?_"

"This is going to spell your death, Audrey Anderson." Uriel told her sternly. God, they always had to be stern, always so stern and so reprimanding. He remembered Eve, the apple core falling from her fingers, her eyes widening as the first pain hit her in the stomach, Adam on his knees beside her. Voices echoed in his mind, and he closed his eyes for a moment against the light.

_"Uriel….I…Oh Uriel, what I can SEE now!"_

_"Eve! EVE! DEAR GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"_

_"Hide me…I'm naked…"_

Uriel reached out for Audrey, grabbing her shoulders and leaning down so that their faces almost touched.

"I lost the last woman who set foot here, long ago. I am saddened at the prospect of losing another, even if she is quite the most aggravating human being I have ever met. If He is to destroy you for your insolence, then I will at least insure that I am with you to hold your hand when He does it."

Audrey found this oddly touching. She pulled away and turned around again, then set off down the path with the worried angel in tow.

Benjamin stood at the edge of the garden, holding a snarling Zeus by the collar. When He looked at her this time, He suddenly did not seem quite so kindly. The genial professor was gone…it was all fire and brimstone now.

"I told you to leave, kid."

Audrey glared at him for a few moments, then did something completely and totally unexpected. She fell to her knees and bowed her head.

"Dear God…"

"Get up, human! Your attitude has pushed this situation WAY beyond the reach of prayer!"

"…Please help me do what I'm about to do…"

"You insolent little – "

"…I know you're really angry with me, with all of us, but I ask that you soften the heart of the One I am about to speak to and help Him hear me…"

"Do you have ANY idea how incredibly bizarre this is? Any idea WHATSOEVER?"

"…because I love Him, and even after everything that's happened, I haven't stopped loving Him. God, thank You for letting me live, for allowing Your servant to save me. Thank You for giving me life in the first place. I know I haven't been the best person in the world…"

"Oh, you've got THAT right, kid!"

"…or even second best or third best or one billionth best. But I'm a human being. One of Your creations. Even though you've given up on me, I haven't given up on You. I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm just asking for a few minutes. Just please, please…listen to me. Amen."

She opened her eyes. Benjamin was glaring at her, and she could feel Uriel kneeling down beside her with his head bowed as well. When the humans pray…the angels pray with them.

Audrey got to her feet.

"You have five minutes, kid. And ONLY because I'm feeling a little docile at the moment. But one word out of place and you'll get to find out what the Hound of Hell's breath smells like."

Zeus was pulling at the collar, lips pulled back to reveal sharp white fangs. Audrey took a deep breath and looked Benjamin square in the eyes.

"I want to know why you don't love Gabriel."

"I do love Gabriel. More than you do. Next question."

"You treat him like a dog! He does – "

"I am very much aware of what he does, Audrey, and I am the one who tells him to do it. Next question."

Audrey pursed her lips angrily, dissatisfied, but time was passing and she didn't have a spare moment to waste. She knew without asking that there would be no further leniency granted after this.

"What would happen if a human and an angel made love?"

"They would both be consigned to the fires of hell for all eternity. Their offspring as well, if they had any. The last time human beings mated successfully with angels, it was Azazel who led them astray. Raphael fought him, defeated him, and threw him into the pit where he still waits."

Audrey took a deep, deep breath. She reached beside her and grabbed a fold of Uriel's cloak for strength.

"What happened to Raphael, Ben?"

Benjamin removed his glasses and fixed her with his large brown eyes. There was a tense silence, broken only by the low growl of Zeus. Uriel had not raised his head for all this time, not daring to look his God in the face no matter the form He took. Archangels saw past the veil at all times.

After a time, Ben put his glasses back on and sighed, adjusting them with one calloused finger.

"Perceptive little thing, aren't you?"

Audrey said nothing.

"The Archangel Raphael. The Healer. All of my seraphs were made in pairs, you know. It's that way for a reason. Keeps them tight, keeps them focused, keeps them strong. They exert a hold over one another and make sure that a redirection takes place if there are any…_mistakes_." He whispered the last word in a tone of voice that made all the hair on Audrey's body stand on end. Gabriel sent to kill Michael. Michael coming to take Gabriel away from her. It all made sense now.

"Uriel here was Raphael's other half. Gabriel and Michael, much though they hold one another in extreme tension, are also a matched set. That's why Michael stepped in to remove you. That's why Uriel helped him. They both understand the fear of losing their soul mate to a momentary lapse of sanity."

"Are you calling this a lapse – "

"Are you going to talk, or do you want Me to talk?" Somehow, he made the 'Me' _sound_ capitalized. Audrey felt her pulse thudding in her veins, and she fought down a wave of nauseating fear. She'd interrupted God. Oh hell.

"It was a war that started the chain reaction. Yes, Audrey, angels go to war. Everything fights. Michael led the charge. He's a good boy, very headstrong but smart as a whip. My greatest asset."

Audrey bit her lip angrily, but said nothing.

"Raphael fought hard, he fought well. But one of his wings was severed. That's a pretty bad injury for an angel, kid. He was thrown out of Heaven by the greatest betrayer of them all, falling like a star to earth and losing the other wing in the fall. That's where his story with us ends. Michael went looking for him and didn't find him. And that's all you need to know."

"That's not all there is, though. Is it?"

Benjamin looked down at her, and something changed in His eyes.

"You ask a lot of questions, little fragile human. Let me ask a few now. Where were you when I breathed life into the first stars?"

"I…"

"Where were you when I pulled forth the first particles of matter and started the atomic reactions, the nuclear fission in the center of the largest furnaces in the universe? Were you standing by when I set into motion the angular momentum that caused centrifugal force to balance gravitational pull before reaching the stabilized stellar phase which would, in turn, determine the definite rotation laws? That was a pretty tricky bit of business, you know. Maybe a little too taxing for a girl who got a C minus in Earth Science."

"That's not…"

"Or how about just this planet, then? Did you fill the seas with briny water and tame the Leviathan through sheer force of will? Did you bring forth every living thing from bees to mammoths and give each one its own place in creation? Do you even know what a fish's scale is made of, or how to build one?"

"No…"

"Where were you when I made it all, Audrey Anderson? Where were you when I lifted a handful of mud from the ground at My feet and through My own alchemy turned it into a breathing, thinking, feeling, laughing, weeping, dreaming, raging, seeking, believing, living human being?"

"Oh hell…"

Benjamin's voice softened, and he took a step closer.

"And where were you, Audrey, when I created the seraphim? They're made of light, you know. Pure blinding creative light made into spirit, spirit into flesh. Do you know how to read the script on Michael's body?"

"No."

"I do. Do you know how many feathers are on Uriel's wings?"

"No."

"I do. Do you know what Gabriel says when he talks in his sleep? Do you know what the last thing that went through the mind of Raphael was before he hit the ground? Do you know how many hairs are on Lucifer's head? I do, kid. All of it. I know."

Audrey was stunned into silence for a moment, looking up at him with sorrow and anger and awe in her eyes.

"Wanna know what I know, Ben?"

He raised an eyebrow, looking her over appraisingly.

"Try me."

"I know what it's like to not be You."

Benjamin watched her for a moment, then He narrowed His eyes and straightened.

"Go on."

"I know what it's like to be fragile, as You keep reminding me. I know what it's like to be mortal. I know what it's like to be bewildered and to not understand a damn thing. I know what it's like to be bad and dark and want so much to be good and light and know you won't get there ever, not in a million lifetimes, because you're so full of rot and flaws that it's laughable even to imagine every being clean. I know what it's like to do what you're told even when you hate it – _hate_ it. Try having your own uncle come in and give you a bath when you're nine years old and telling you that he'll strangle your pet cat if you make one damn peep. Try that, Ben. I know what it's like. I know what it's like to want to die, to want to end it all and just give up and hand You back that spark of life that You gave me without my even asking for it or wanting it. I know what it's like to sit on a ledge above a precipice and somehow find the strength to push off. But I know about love, too. I know how it feels to open my eyes and be in so much pain that I want to scream but can't, and see in the fuzzy firelight an angel warming a can of soup over a smoky fire to feed me and keep me alive. I know what it's like to find myself in the arms of someone who understands me…someone that I understand. I know what it's like to look outside of myself and past my own pain and see the loneliness and the suffering of another and to want to do anything, _anything_, to make it better."

Ben watched her, His head tilted to one side, an unreadable expression on His face. Was it anger? Amusement? Derision? No, none of those things. Audrey knew she was past her five minutes, but she forged ahead before He could tell her to go to hell, then have Uriel escort her there.

"You asked me if I knew how many feathers Uriel has on his wings? I'm patient, Ben. Give me some time and I'll tell You, because Uriel and I pretty much get along and I know he'll sit still for me while I damn well count them one at a time. That's what being human is – no shortcuts. What do Michaels tattoos mean? I'll ask him, and learn to read his body an inch at a time until the language comes clear. What did Raphael think before he fell? I'll find him, Ben, and I'll ask him myself. Michael knows something. Uriel suspects something. I don't know what the situation is, but I'm pretty sure about three things: I think Raphael isn't dead, I think Michael knows where he is, and I think he might be in hell for loving a human being. I'm not stupid, Ben. I'm a slut…not an idiot."

"Oh!" Uriel gasped, and he looked up for a second in shock before dropping his gaze to the ground again. Ben's glare turned steely, but Audrey was unrelenting.

"And what does Gabriel say in his sleep? I'll tell You in a few weeks. Because for the rest of my life I plan to sleep right next to him. He doesn't have to kiss me. He doesn't have to make love to me. He doesn't have to be anything other than what he is. I'll stay by his side. But I'm telling You this, Sir, respectfully. If Gabriel wants me, he can have me. I won't even hesitate. I don't care what hell is like or how long it lasts. I'll go there and fucking smile while I do it if it means being with him for even one measly lifetime. He's worth it. I'd rather have Your wrath all over me like fire on straw than exist without him. No promises, no conditions, no amendments. Just love. I love Gabriel, sir. I love Your Right Hand, Your Messenger, Your Warrior, Your pet dog. I love him with every drop of blood in my frail little insignificant mortal heart. The more You keep me from him, the more I love him."

Silence. Appraisal. Audrey felt she should say something to let Him know she'd finished.

"Uh…amen."

Nothing. And then –

"Uriel, take this high and mighty young orator back home. Now. Have Michael guard her. Then get back here."

"Yes, Father."

"And when you come back, make sure your brother is with you." Ben told him, and turned away to lead Zeus back to the garden, "I think it's time I had a private word with Gabriel."

Audrey's stomach clenched like a fist, and she sank to her knees beside Uriel.

"Shit." she whispered. Uriel glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and she was surprised to see tears sparkling there.

"Audrey. Little stupid fearless human," he said softly, "What have you done?


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: The Hand of God

Michael finally awoke near dusk, and his entire body felt like he'd been thrown from a mountaintop.

It took him a full minute to realize that he had been.

"Millie?" he called into the dim light. Something was wrong, there was a stillness to the room, an emptiness, a lack of some warmth or weight that he knew should have been there. He turned his head to the side, fighting the fuzziness of his vision to perceive the shape of his brother beneath the blanket next to him.

But he wasn't there. Six feet, nine inches, nearly three hundred pounds of solid muscle, bone, flesh and feather were missing from the bed. Michael sat up. A sharp stab of agony lanced through his head, but he ignored it.

"Millie?" He called out again, "Howard?"

There was no answer. Michael forced his legs to hold his weight, and he stood for a moment beside the bed, clutching the small table for support. Weakly, he moved toward the door and opened it, his wings stiff and sore against his back, grinding painfully with every step. The living room too was empty. Only Old Pete the cat sat still in the middle of the floor, looking up at the archangel with mild interest.

"_Where people?"_ Michael asked the cat. No creature, no human or mammal or avian or reptile or insect or even fish was beyond the reach of an angel's communication. The cat stared at Michael for a few moments, the very tip of his tail twitching.

"_In barn. Other feather-thing there."_ The cat finally responded. Michael nodded and moved to the door, carefully draping the blanket from the back of the sofa around his shoulders before stepping outside, lest he be spotted by a stranger.

The light was golden, pouring down like honey across the faded trailer and the brittle grass and the old tractor rusting under its sheet of gleaming dew. Michael breathed in the scent of new mown hay, machine oil, the chickens in their dusty pen. It was a beautiful morning, so beautiful and simple and sweet that it made him forget for a moment the sorrow they had come from and the sorrow into which they would continue to walk until all this unpleasantness was at an end. He made his way across the little field, round the back of the trailer, pausing as he beheld a splash of his brother's blood on the ground, soaking into the dirt.

_From dust you came, and to the dust you shall return…_

But Gabriel was born of light, of a pure light that was without stain, a light that had existed since before the world was made and would exist long after it had ceased to be. The pain of seeing this jewel-bright liquid lying in Adam's dust on Adam's world stung like a hornet in the heart. It seemed obscene, a fluid heresy that the ants avoided.

Michael looked ahead, to the barn door standing ajar and the figure of Millie coming through it with a worried look in her eyes. She saw him, and her hands fluttered slightly like a bird lifting its wings over a nest.

"Mike, what are you doing out of bed? Land sakes, boy, you've got to rest. One crisis is all we need today!"

Michael allowed her to fuss over him a bit, wrapping his blanket a little tighter and feeling his forehead for evidence of a fever. But he gently resisted her attempt to turn him back to the house.

"I must see Gabriel. What has happened?"

"Something ain't right with his head. He's talking in Latin and not making a whole lot of sense. Howard says it's temporary, and that Gabe's gonna be just fine in a few days or maybe even hours, but right now we're at touch and go. Howie's with him now. Been with him for hours and hours, just talking to him in a low voice same as you would to a bull or a wolf or something hurt real bad and savage. You be careful when you go on up there."

Millie paused at the door to the barn, watching the ladder nervously as though she expected at any moment the emergence of a dread apparition. Michael soothingly touched her hair, drawing the woman into his arms and hugging her for a moment in a gesture of reassurance before pulling away to grasp the bottom rung of the ladder.

"Howard?" he called softly. A moment passed. Then,

"Shhh. Just come up. And for God's sake move slow. Stay where he can see ya, boy."

Michael climbed swiftly, holding the blanket tightly around him as he went, careful not to bump his already bruised wings against the edge of the platform. His eyes adjusted to the dim, dusty light of the hayloft, the soft yellow beams of sunshine picking out a dapple of worn floorboards across the expanse of the empty attic room. On the far side, seated on a lone hay bale, was Howard. And crouching on the floor beside him, wings folded around his body and stippled with hay, was Gabriel.

Michael took a deep breath and moved forward, slowly, knowing even better than Howard how truly deadly a situation this was. Gabriel, even when not fully in control of his mental or physical faculties, was lethal. Far more lethal than any other Archangel save Michael himself, and even then he showed superiority in battle and physical strength. Knowing that a fight would bring further damage to the both of them, possibly resulting in death, Michael knelt down as close to his brother as he dared, meeting his eyes.

"Gabriel." He said softly. Howard kept his hand on the big angel's dark head, stroking his hair as one would pet a savage animal to keep it calm. Michael did not dare look up at the old vet, unwilling to break eye contact. Gabriel, for his part, stared palely at Michael with open distrust.

"I know you." Gabriel said softly, and Michael nodded.

"I am your brother. My name is…"

"Michael." He snarled, and the wings shifted in annoyance. A glimpse of torn flesh on his chest, his belly. Broken glass and perfume, dirt and straw, blood and shredded skin.

"You're bleeding. We must care for your injuries."

"I do not _want_ your help. Audrey is gone. I must look for her. The crash, there was sand in the wounds, green stars, so much pain. I…I cannot…protect her…dear God…" he tensed, closed his eyes for a moment, a look of pain marring his features. Michael stroked the sensitive place in the crook of his wing, a soothing, intimate gesture, and Gabriel trembled.

"My brother, please trust me. Fides mihi, diligo." _Trust me, I love you._

"Meus hostilis est." _You are my enemy._

"Nunquam! Vestri cruor sum." _Never! I am your blood._

Gabriel said nothing, deep in thought. He reached up, touched Michael's throat, traced the delicate line of the angelic script inked upon the soft white flesh, and narrowed his pale eyes for a moment.

"My…brother?" he said softly, slowly.

"Yes." Michael replied, and moved to hold the giant in his arms for a moment. Howard carefully scooted to one side, stretching his aching muscles. He had not moved in quite a few hours, knowing somehow that the big angel at his feet needed help, needed compassion, needed his presence.

Even though Howard was just a man, a stiff-jointed old timer in faded jeans and faded shirt and faded eyes, he was nevertheless a source of strength. Michael glanced at him briefly, and the old man paused under the keenness of that gaze.

"Stay. He needs you."

They were the only words that needed speaking. Howard sank down again and looked at his two angels, injured and frighteningly alien and wrapped in one another's arms like nervous children. Suddenly, for their presence, the loft seemed holy ground. A hay-scented cathedral. The old veterinarian bowed his head in reverence and sorrow and a strange, wild protectiveness that rose within his chest and squeezed his heart.

"'Course I'll stay, Mike. I gotta protect him."

"Fetch him some clothing. And have Millie bring up water, you'll need to wash the dirt from these wounds."

"If I touch him, won't he…"

Michael pursed his lips and regarded his brother appraisingly, judging his capacity for destruction. Gabriel's wing twitched.

It was the tail-tip of the panther waiting to pounce, the raising of the scorpion's tail, the lifting of the rattlesnake's dusty percussion instrument. But the eyes…Gabriel's eyes were clearing even now. He was becoming more aware of himself with every passing moment, healing rapidly as Michael's blood coursed through his veins and infused his injuries with protective holy fire.

In a few hours…in a few hours, he would be master of himself again. Michael did not know if that would be a blessing or a curse, if he would attack again or if he would listen to reason. He glanced at Howard.

"Hand me the clothing, the water, a cloth. Your medical kit."

The items were brought in short order, passed up silently and swiftly with a sense of breathless urgency from below. Millie, her maternal instincts proving more powerful than her fear, slipped up the ladder like a ghost and stood in the shadows nearby.

And Michael mended.

He reached out to his brother through the anger, through the sorrow of their broken love, reached out with calm certainty and held the larger angel's gaze as he did so. The savage chest and stomach wounds he addressed first, and there was only the sound of the cloth in the water and the wind outside across the dry brush. Tension stung the air.

"Gabriel, do you know where you are?" Michael whispered, so low that only his brother could hear.

"I do. Sometimes. Other times I do not."

"You will know fully soon. I must ask you to listen to me now, listen well. I beg this of you."

The pale eyes bore into him, stripping away the skin and the muscle and the bone, watching his pulse pound against his neck and the rhythm of his breathing. Michael knew better than to look away. He dipped the cloth in the water again and brought it to his brother's chest.

"I am listening." Gabriel replied finally. He took the cloth from Michael and began cleaning himself, defiant. A shard of glass fell from his stomach, and the crystal sound it made when it hit the floor seemed very loud. Michael took a deep breath.

"Audrey has been taken to Eden by Uriel to give us time to speak. It was my thought that you both would be in grave danger if you stayed together. I cannot bear the thought of your damnation. But I realize now that this was never my choice to make, though the Creator intended for us to care for one another."

Gabriel was silent. He threw the cloth back into the bowl and reached for the black pajama pants Howard had laid nearby. Slowly, and with obvious discomfort, he slipped into them. Michael noted with approval that his wounds were scarring over even then, the dried blood against his burned side flaking off in places, revealing new pink skin unmarred and perfect beneath. His rate of healing was picking up speed. There wasn't much time. Moments?

"Gabriel…God, please..."

The larger angel turned away, angry confusion darkening his countenance.

And then, suddenly, the last puzzle piece dropped into place. Gabriel's eyes widened as the tumultuous memories of all that had passed slammed into him with the force of a blow, and he whirled around to regard Michael.

"How could you."

It was not a question.

Michael raised his hands in a gesture of supplication.

"Now brother, please calm yourself. Everything may be – "

Gabriel slammed into him with the full force of his body weight, throwing him back against wall behind them. Millie's scream and Howard's simultaneous shout of horror and shock were drowned out by the splintering of the loft doors. The two archangels, their combined force too much for the old wood, plunged directly through it and fell together to the ground some thirty feet below. For a moment they were still, the breath knocked from their battered bodies. And then, with effort, Gabriel pushed himself up from the body of his brother and pulled back a fist to strike him.

"STOP IT!"

The sudden command, in a familiar voice made unearthly by its power and decibel level, caused all movement to stop. Even Howard and Millie, staring in horror from the loft above, stilled immediately. They stumbled over one another to reach the ladder, rushing out a few moments later to behold this new element. It was raining angels in their yard.

For another had arrived. Praise Heaven, hallelujah, white clouds parting to give way to dazzling Jacob's ladders illuminating the form of the most glorious Being the world had seen in thousands of years. A creature not meant for earth, not meant for the sweat and the blood and the fighting and the misery. A creature of pure holy fire, white robes reflecting the sun, dazzling golden hair a mane of glory around his perfect white face, at once stern and gorgeous beyond comprehension. His white wings, spread to their full ten-foot span, were gilded with jade highlights. He held a sword in his hands, but its fire was all but eclipsed by the pure, the perfect beauty and terrible menace that was Uriel.

Michael wasted not a moment. He rolled to the side with agility born of millions of years of battle, and rose into a crouch, facing his brother. Gabriel simply stood, ignoring him now, his pale eyes locked with Uriel's in mounting fury.

"You…" he began, and then stopped.

He had seen her. He had seen Audrey.

With the broken whimper of a person experiencing joy too keen to bear, Audrey squirmed loose from Uriel's arms and bolted to him, tears coursing down her face. Three breathless heartbeats passed. Michael stared. Uriel stared. Howard stared. Millie stared.

And Gabriel opened his arms, and Audrey ran into them. He lifted her from the ground in a bone-crushing embrace, eyes shut, burying his face in her hair and breathing the scent of Eden. No matter that the others looked on in judgment. No matter that the furnace of hell roared hotter in delight as he pulled Audrey against him. No matter that the heavens suddenly flashed fire behind the clouds and thunder trembled the ground. No matter. Nothing mattered. Audrey pressed against him and wept, whispering his name, and he gathered her ever tighter into his arms and murmured her name as well, his lips brushing against her temple.

After a moment, he looked past her at Uriel.

The other angel watched them, no expression on his porcelain features.

"My lord," he finally said, "I am to bring you before the Throne immediately. Alone."

"NO!" Audrey snapped, glaring back over her shoulder. Michael came forward to touch her, and she whirled on him, pressing her back to Gabriel's chest and staring down the other two archangels.

"If you two bastards want him, you'll have to come THROUGH me!" she snapped.

Michael held up a hand in a soothing gesture, but Uriel reached for his sword-hilt.

"Audrey, please listen…" Michael entreated softly, moving forward.

"I AM DONE LISTENING TO YOU!"

"You obnoxious little brat, how dare you stand in the way of God's will?"

"I'M NOT MOVING, URIEL!"

But it was Gabriel who spoke next, putting his arms around her and pulling her around to face him. Audrey burst into tears, seeing the look in his eyes and knowing, _knowing_ that he was going to go. He was going to let it happen. He was going to be punished and he wasn't going to fight it.

"You cannot risk your life or your soul for this, child." He told her, firm and gentle all at once. She held tight to his feathers, her cheek against his bare chest, crying bitterly.

"I'm not leaving you. I don't care about hell. I'm not letting them take you. Please, please, please don't go. He'll kill you. I've made him furious. Don't go. Stay with me. Gabriel, stay with me."

He tilted her face up to look at him, and his pale eyes were kind.

"Stay here with Howard and Millie. They will look after you until I come back."

"He won't _let_ you come back, damn it!"

"He will, Audrey. He merely wishes to speak with me. When an angel is summoned to the Throne, he has to go."

"No! _Please_ don't go!"

Gabriel stroked her hair back from her face and leaned down.

"Trust me, and be still. I beg you, Audrey. Trust me." He whispered, and kissed her. His brothers watched him with horror and confusion, as though they had just seen him shake hands with Satan. His words had an effect on Audrey that no amount of threats from Uriel or even God could cause. Audrey bowed her head, hot tears spilling down her cheeks, her fists clenched. But she was silent. Gabriel touched her hair once, gently, before he turned away.

Then he addressed Uriel.

"I am ready." He said. Millie put an arm around Audrey to lead her away. She started to struggle, but a look from Gabriel quieted her. Michael came forward, ready with Uriel to return to the Throne and face what must be faced at his brother's side. Amidst Audrey's sobbing and the rustling of the gathering wind through the feathers of the archangels, Howard cleared his throat.

"Uh, Mr. Angel, sir?" he said hesitantly, approaching Uriel.

"What, child of Adam?" Uriel looked down at him sternly. Howard could not help but notice that he wore no collar.

"Sir, I'd like to go along, of you don't mind none. Gabe here…well, he's kinda special to Millie and me. And Mike too. They're like our boys now."

"This isn't a trip to the sea, human. He is to go before the Lord to explain his actions. Your devotion to him is touching, but if you truly love him then you will remain here and watch over this inexcusable young woman who has caused so much unrest. He will most likely return to you soon, although in what condition and with what new orders I cannot say. These angels are not your pets or your children. They are servants of the Most High."

Howard looked from one tall, bright figure to the others, his old eyes full of confusion and tears. Seeing him in his sorrow touched both Michael and Gabriel, but it was the larger angel who moved first.

Gabriel took the old man's gnarled hand in his, and clasped it in a warrior's grip.

"Thank you, Howard." He said. Michael hugged Millie, gently drying her tears with his fingertips, and then laid his hand on Audrey's head in a benediction.

Uriel waited, impatient, as his brethren bade farewell to the elderly human couple and the young girl.

Gabriel turned once more to Audrey, looking down at her, then reached behind him to his magnificent wing, extending it slightly. He grasped tight to a feather near the base, long and brilliantly glossy in the weak light and pulled it free, then pressed it into her trembling palm.

"I will return to you." He said softly, and backed away.

And then they were gone, with not even a premonitory wing beat. Uriel simply wrapped an arm around each, and then the light of his body grew in intensity to dazzle the tearful eyes of the onlookers. Within seconds, only emptiness remained.

Audrey looked down at the feather in her hand, clutching it so tightly that its razor edge cut the meaty part of her palm. She looked at the elderly couple beside her, eyes wide and damp and filled with anger, with bewilderment, with pain. Millie came forward, swallowing hard, and put her arm around the girl's slim shaking shoulders.

"Honey…honey let's get you inside. Come on now. We'll look after you until your angel gets back."

Howard, for his part, kept his eyes on the place where the three divine figures had vanished, a gaping emptiness wet with tears open in his heart. As Millie led Audrey inside, the young girl's feet dragging in the dust, the old veterinarian followed. The three of them sat down at the table, none of them speaking. Millie made tea that no one drank. Pete lay despondent on the floor. And Audrey, so strong and defiant even in the presence of God, lay her head on the tabletop and wept.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20: The Citadel

How far is it to Heaven as only angels travel? Three heartbeats, and one breathless moment later they stood in Eden. Uriel stepped back from his brothers, brushing the farmyard dust from his robes with distaste, Gabriel's blood dripping down his side. Michael stepped forward and tried to take Gabriel's massive hand in his, but was violently rebuffed.

"Do not touch me."

Uriel sighed and looked up at the shining circle of the sun, pain lancing through his heart in the presence of such tension between brothers. He bowed to them and gestured with one elegant hand.

"My Lord Gabriel. General Michael. I would advise a few moments in the Healing Pool and a change of attire before you present yourselves to the Most High."

Gabriel turned to stare at him, and the dark shadows in his eyes spoke volumes, whole libraries with sections on disgust, loathing, betrayal, and wrath. Uriel returned his gaze placidly for a few moments before finding himself unable to bear it, and he looked away. It was Michael who spoke next.

"Thank you for your help, Uriel. I believe we know our way from here. Perhaps you would find it prudent to await Lord Gabriel at the Citadel. I will go with him to the Pool. Have the servants bring fresh attire, if you will." His voice was soft, sad, reasonable. Uriel bowed slightly and turned to go.

"As you wish." He replied, and was gone.

After a few moments, Michael turned to look at his brother.

"How long do you intend to hate me?"

"How long do you intend to live?"

"Gabriel, you are being unreasonable."

The larger angel did not answer, a muscle twitching in his jaw, and after a moment Michael sighed and lapsed into silence. The two of them walked together through the sunlight, a gulf yawning between them that neither one knew how to cross. Had ever known how to cross. Michael briefly wondered what would happen if he simply reached out and took Gabriel's hand, but thought better of it a moment later when he glanced at the look on his companion's face. Such an intrusion would be more than unwelcome. It would start another fight. Angelic blood spilling on the soft emerald grass of Paradise, a blasphemy of astonishing proportions. Michael adjusted his sweatpants and sighed in irritation.

The Healing Pool was a beautiful thing to look upon, like a bit of sky pulled free from the blue dome above them and tacked to the earth by a circle of smooth silvery stones. It had the ability to mend all injuries, put to rights all every ailment save death. When the angels reached it they disrobed, wading into the water and immersing their wings. Gabriel kept his eyes turned away from the aching brightness of the sky, instead watching the tendrils of his blood float away like ruby smoke under the glass of the water's surface. He could still taste Audrey on his lips. The itching tingle of his wounds closing was nothing, a distraction. The water could never remove the pain of his circumstances. But his face betrayed nothing. It never did.

"When we go before the Father – " Michael began.

"There is no we. I shall face Him alone."

Michael shook his head.

"I cannot stand by and allow you to endure the possible wrath of God with no one beside you! Gabriel!"

He did not answer, merely turning his broad back to his brother and walking up out of the water. The cool grass caressed his feet, the little bushes on either side shivering in pleasure at the nearness of the Archangel. Gabriel's sore, stiff feathers lifted and fluffed slightly, evocative of a giant bird after a bath. Standing there naked in the Garden with the sweet wind glossing through his hair and along his feathers, he was suddenly reminded of the Before Times. He closed his eyes, breathing for a long while.

_"__Then God said, "Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds." And it was so. The land produced vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds and trees bearing fruit with seed in it according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the third day."_

Ah yes, the third day. And Gabriel and Uriel and Michael and Raphael turned loose like rambunctious puppies into this new Garden with its endless haunts and hollows, the deep clear seas and lakes for swimming, the high mountains for scrambling up and flying over, the music of the wind and the perfume of the flowers. The warm tangle of flesh and feathers in the sunshine-drunk meadow when four bodies lay together and napped. But then the moment came when Raphael was called in from the woods, Michael in from the waters, flitting Uriel down from the skies. When Gabriel, who curled in quiet contentment at the feet of God, was made to stand with his brothers as the Creator unveiled two small, pale, hairless creatures who blinked in amazement at the splendor of their surroundings.

_"Come. See now what I have made. Bow before them, for I love them and have made them in My image. Bow."_

Michael eagerly going to his knees, face alight with joy, loving the little things too. Raphael falling to his knees a split second later. The three brief moments where Gabriel's eyes had met Uriel's, a look of disgust and outrage and betrayal passing between them, and then the feeling of going to his knees in the wet grass…

An ache keener than that of a Roman spear in the side lanced through his chest, and he leaned against a tree suddenly. Michael was right beside him, reaching out with tears in his warm eyes to touch and hold the immensity of his brother's body in his arms. But Gabriel thrust him away with one arm.

"I do not need you, Michael! I NEVER NEEDED YOU!"

"That is a lie. Gabriel please! You are breaking my heart!"

"SO BE IT! You have already broken mine." He did not shout. The last words left his lips with the weight of an entire continent. Michael bowed his head, agony settling into his soul. He dropped his hands and stood back, watching his brother take heavily to the air and soar like a great bird away toward the Citadel. Only when the diminishing figure vanished beyond the nodding willow trees did Michael finally sink to his knees beside the pool, his wings wrapping around his slim nude form as though in shame.

"My God, my Lord…what ending have I effected here?" He whispered, and tears flowed from his eyes. As if in sympathy, the sky wept with him. And the rains of Eden bathed the trembling angel as they had in the very beginning, when the brothers danced laughing through the mist.

Gabriel touched down heavily on the white stone terrace of the Citadel and was greeted by two lesser angels in pale blue robes, who clothed him respectfully in a white tunic of the finest lambs' wool and tied sandals upon his feet. It felt good to be clad in proper clothing again, to wear handmade sandals and a heavy woven belt instead of the blue towel or the oddly constricting pants given to him by the old veterinarian. At the thought of Howard his throat constricted slightly, a caught emotion that stunned him. Turning, he regarded one of the angels, who met his eyes and smiled.

He did not return the expression.

They walked together, inward and upward through the long echoing corridors. Pale light gleamed from entrances, broken here and there by the figures of angels landing or taking off, going about the business of the Most High, humming Hallelujahs as they circled the Throne. A place of restless wings and the clink of armor or the sweep of robes. Solemn majesty. Gabriel had always found such solace here. The pristine clarity of perfect obedience came naturally to him.

He blinked, casting his gaze over a particular entrance. The last time he had stood here, in this place, it had been in the shadows with his brother beside him. The day before the assault. The day before everything went wrong.

_"You question him." _He had whispered, guessing Michael's thoughts.

_"I question myself…and so should you."_

It was heresy, of course. They were Archangels. There place was not to question, not to speculate, not to presume to guess at the mind and heart of The Creator. Their place was to obey. At least…it had been. Before blood and twisted metal and dirt. Before green stars and ripped lace. Before the taste of a girl's kiss and the feel of an old woman's hand and the sudden stab of love that lanced through him when he looked up in confusion and pain and beheld an ancient, wrinkled man sitting on a hay bale in a loft risking death to keep a strange wounded beast company. Before honey hair and nine freckles.

They came at last to the Room of Light, the Heart of Silence, the Holiest of Holies. And there his guides left him, pulling wide the doors with bowed heads to reveal the space within. Gabriel drew a deep breath and released it slowly, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He was to face Judgment now. To stand before the Father as he had in the beginning. Only two things could truly kill an angel. The will of God or the loss of an angel's faith, signified either by indecent blasphemy such as the conscious removal of the wings, or a more passive giving up of hope and faith in the Most High and His creation.

Gabriel had nearly died from his injuries on the mountain, had nearly succumbed to that loss of faith. And now he stood poised to go before the Lord with a bowed head, undoubtedly instructed to repent of his perceived transgressions and make obeisance, which would necessarily involve the letting go and turning away from Audrey, among other things. He felt a tingle of anger in his chest, and it shamed him. As the doors clanged shut, he walked forward into the light and lowered himself to one knee, waiting in silence for wrath or comfort. An angel should think only on the Creator and His will at all times. But as Gabriel knelt there on the warm floor in the blinding Light of God, which was a mere fraction of the Immensity that existed before all worlds were made, he found his thoughts touched by a softer and frailer light. A candle beside the midday sun. The image of her small, pale hand on his chest, imploring him not to go.

"Gabriel."

The voice was soft, deep. He did not lift his dark head, maintaining a respectful posture until bidden to rise. There was a whisper of fabric, sandaled feet coming toward him over the tiled floor. And then a hand on the back of his head.

"Welcome home."

Gabriel lifted his eyes, staring up at the figure who stood over him. A nondescript man in simple homespun robes, brown eyes kind and merciful. The Shepherd…not the Judge.

"My Lord. Thank you."

"You left us. I had thought you would not return."

"For a time only, Lord."

There was silence, and the Shepherd sighed. He gestured to Gabriel, then turned and began to walk slowly toward the staircase. In silence, they descended. Through the Citadel, past the door guards, beneath the tall white columns that reached up to vanish into cloud-shrouded cerulean vault of the sky. Out to the Garden, where Gabriel and God walked slowly amidst the laden fruit trees.

"You have disobeyed Me."

Gabriel said nothing.

"I had not thought it possible. Not from you. Your brothers, perhaps. Not you."

"It was not my intention, Father."

The Shepherd sighed, turning to look up at Gabriel.

"There is a road that I know of that is paved with good intentions," He said softly, and His eyes hardened, "And you seem very eager to walk it."

* * *

Night fell over the farm, and still Audrey paced outside in the dusty yard, wrapped in a hand-crocheted afghan that the veterinarian's wife insisted on draping about her shoulders.

"You'll catch your death out here, honey." The woman had said softly, and in her faded denim eyes there was complete understanding. Too miserable to refuse the blanket, which smelled not unpleasantly of cat fur and fabric softener and the lemon furniture polish that Millie so loved, Audrey tightened it now about her and was glad of the warmth. The darkening sky was empty, pale glittering stars scattered haphazardly across the vast expanse. She wondered for a moment if they were lonely.

A coyote howled out across the desert somewhere in a voice that perfectly encapsulated everything she felt and could not articulate. Eyes closed, she let the pain and confusion in her chest rise and consume her for a moment of weakness, hot tears obscuring her vision. The wind stirred her hair, disturbing the long black angel feather she had tied there to keep it close. To keep him close.

Millie slipped out of the house and came up behind her, watching the way the young girl stood shrouded in her pain. She'd said very little after the angels left, her eyes haunted and sad and her entire demeanor one of restless fear. Millie had seen this before, in herself when Howard went off to war. That gnawing worry that rimed the heart with ice and eroded hope day after day until the moment came when you didn't even want to torment yourself with the fantasy that your sweetheart is going to return. The old woman suddenly found herself feeling a great kinship with this strange, silent child whom an angel loved. An angel. An Archangel. Millie touched her with a kind of reverence that was nevertheless motherly.

"He'll be back, sweetheart. You want to come on inside? I made up the sofa nice and cozy for you, put fresh sheets on it and everything. And there's some nice loaf just about finished cookin'. I remember our angel, he said you sure did like my meat loaf."

Audrey wiped at her face and turned around, and without hesitation Millie took the skinny girl into her strong mother's arms and held her tightly the way she'd held injured children of a hundred different species before. She rubbed her back and rocked her a little as Audrey began to silently weep.

"There now. There, there. You just go on and let it all out, you'll feel better. You just cry now. Just cry."

Howard leaned in the doorway for a moment, almost calling out to them, but something about their posture, these two women with a span of five decades between them sharing a moment of perfect understanding kept him at bay. He withdrew, respecting the feminine language they spoke without speaking. Some things were not meant for men to fiddle with.

Audrey sighed, sniffling.

"They're taking him away to be punished. He said something about hell. It's bullshit! We didn't even do anything wrong! And he just went with them like a little kid getting led behind the woodshed! I thought he was strong, brave! We didn't even have a chance to talk! I don't even know if he…if he…" she trailed off, misery sticking like cotton wadding in the back of her throat. Millie rubbed her back, rocking her. Then she eased her out of her arms and wiped her tears away with old, wrinkled, surprisingly strong fingers.

"Hush now, darlin'. Don't you be questionin' the love of that man. That angel. Let me tell you something." Millie tilted Audrey's damp face up slightly, and pointed at the mountain. "Every single time your fella came swooping down from there, it was for you. He don't need to eat. He don't need soft blankets washed and dried every three days. He don't need medical supplies and lotion and lamps and cookies and books and women's clothing. He came down here to get them for you. Just so he could take care of you. I have known men like him all my life. Not angels, surely not. But men who wear their feelings on the inside and don't say the words 'I love you', not even to their own mothers. They are quiet, honest men who act and don't speak. They show their love in a hundred little ways, but they don't go on and on makin' speeches about their feelings. I know all about men like that. I married one."

"He fed me soup. And he washed me while I was unconscious. Hell, he even combed my hair and made me read philosophy." She laughed mirthlessly, wiping her nose, and took a deep breath. "I love him."

Millie patted her arms and smiled, then gave her a little affectionate shake.

"'Course you do, honey. And he loves you. Just you wait now. You wait on your man. They always have a way of coming through. Love always finds a way."

"Always." Audrey repeated faintly, staring one last, long moment at the empty sky. She touched the feather. And then, with a heavy heart, she followed the old woman indoors. Howard stood in the kitchen, carving up the meat loaf, and he glanced around as Millie led their newest houseguest inside. The cat hopped down off the sofa and pranced over to thread himself between Audrey's ankles, and she picked him up and held him like a baby. Howard shook his head in wonder, surveying the cat's docile acceptance of this manhandling.

"Now that there is just the icing on the cake of miracles we've seen this month. Angels stealing our laundry and sleeping in our bed is one thing. Old Pete lettin' someone flip him all around like that is quite another. You got yourself a way with animals, young lady. It'll be a joy to have you here."

Audrey tickled the sour-looking, ancient cat under his chin and listened to his rusty little engine starting up. He pawed at the black feather in her hair, and she found herself cracking a very small smile. Perhaps everything really would be alright. Maybe, despite the way she had treated him, Gabriel loved her. He had taken care of her, after all. He had given her a feather. Perhaps, just this once in her life, love really would find a way.

She had nothing left to believe in now. Only him.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Answers

For days, Howard and Millie watched over Audrey as she slept like the dead, curled up in the spare bedroom in which their grown daughter no longer lived. Wearing the departed girl's clothing. Eating mechanically at their table. Wandering disconsolately from room to room and around the perimeter of the house. The first time Audrey turned her slim back to the trailer and walked into the scrubby wilderness, Millie saw her through the window and moved to rush out and stop her. But Howard, who was standing nearby drying the dishes that Millie washed, laid his hand on her arm.

"Don't you be running out there, honey." He said softly, and Millie quieted. There was a look of motherly worry that pinched her features, but she did not argue with her husband. She knew as well as he did that people and animals needed to make the decision whether to live or not for themselves. You are born more or less alone. You live largely alone, in the confines of your own thoughts and feelings from the walled fortress of your head and heart. And when it is time to die, when the great machinery of your body is ready to shut down through work of the will or physical inability to continue on…it must be carried out as a private affair. An internal one.

All day they waited for Audrey, doing their chores together. They spoke normally, about normal things. The chicken coop and how it needed a new screen before it could be restocked. How dry the year had been until recently, and how lovely and green the few sparse trees were looking. The reappearance of a battered gray barn cat they'd given up for lost, and how disgruntled Old Pete was about its return. They spoke without speaking, neither one of them saying what was on their minds. _Come home, Audrey. Come home, little girl. Come home._

Audrey walked slowly and steadily into the desert, finding solace in the stillness. Her chest ached. Her head ached. Her heart ached. And yet her feet would not grant her even a moment's respite. Not until the heat became so oppressive that breathing felt like drinking warm water. Finally, she sat down beneath the patchy shade of a Joshua tree and leaned against its trunk, staring at the blue glory of the sky spread out above her.

_God sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners with singing; but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land…_

She put her head down and stroked her fingers along the edge of the feather in her hair, feeling the weight of it against her neck. Somewhere above and beyond any place that human beings could possibly reach under their own power, Gabriel was speaking with God. Would he renounce her? Never come back? Leave her to grow old and die here alone with these kind and doting elderly people in the middle of nowhere? She didn't know. After all she'd put him through and all the pain she'd caused, there could certainly be no blaming him for a decision to leave her behind. She had mocked him in the cave. Spit on him. Tempted him. Taken his gifts and hurled them back at him like a spoiled child. And he had stared at her quietly, then gone and fetched more gifts, more books, more clothing.

Audrey's chest hurt.

A shadow crossed between herself and the sun, spreading a blessing of momentary coolness. She did not look up, preferring to mark the passing of a little dun-colored bug traipsing over the toe of one of her worn, too-large sneakers.

"You don't even know where you're headed, do you?" She asked the bug. It ignored her, having encountered the modest speed bump of her shoelace. Audrey thought about how easy it would be to reach down and crush it, to snuff out its little life forever. She could do it. And suddenly a surge of power ran through her, she felt omnipotent. She could kill. Whatever strange sacred electricity that made this diminutive beetle begin to live and grow and eat and mate and know when it was time to do each…she could take it away in a single second. Just take away everything it had while it was busy negotiating a way around her shoelace.

This must be the way Gabriel felt when he watched her sleep.

Very gently, tears in her eyes, Audrey reached down and lifted the little bug into her hands. Then she placed it in the hollow of the tree behind her and crunched up a handful of grass to expose the moisture. She felt extremely protective of it, as though sparing that life made it hers.

"Audrey?" Michael stood over her, dressed in soft white linen and a woven belt, and his voice was soft and sad. Audrey leaped to her feet, throwing her arms around him and nearly knocking him backwards with her enthusiasm.

"Michael! Oh my God! Oh!" She burst into tears, sobbing with emotional exhaustion and frustration and even anger. Wordlessly, the tall angel embraced her and rubbed her back until the worst of her shaking had stilled. Finally Audrey pushed him away and swiped angrily at her nose. She didn't give a damn if she looked good or not. Michael stood with his hands behind his back and waited for the inevitable outburst. He was not kept waiting for long.

"I hope you're happy!" Audrey snapped. "This mess is your fault! You and that other one! Uriel! And I don't give a goddamn what you have to say for yourself about the Heavenly laws and the need to keep Gabriel from sinning with me and the punishments that we will endure or any of the rest of it! The fact remains that we hadn't done ANYTHING – "

"The fact remains," Michael held up a hand to silence her, cutting her off with a stern voice and a rather dark cast to his eyes, "That you had not sinned yet. But you were headed there, Audrey Anderson. And you know it. You had kissed him."

"He saved me from death!"

"He held you in his arms and longed for you! You tempted an angel. An Archangel. You placed your immortal soul and his in jeopardy. And all for what? The Sons of Heaven are not to be dallied with, Audrey. But we shall see what may come of this." He sighed and passed both hands over his face, then sat down at the base of the tree. After a moment, Audrey sat down beside him. Michael produced a silver flask from the pocket of his tunic and handed it to her, and she took a long drink of the cool mead from within. Feeling slightly calmer, she handed it back and rested her elbows on her knees, looking out over the dusty landscape.

"What's happening to him right now, Michael?"

"He is speaking with the Most High."

"Will he be killed?"

"I highly doubt that. Gabriel is a valued and obedient servant."

"He's never treated like one!"

Michael shook his head and sipped from the flask, then handed it to Audrey again.

"You do not know that. Gabriel is treated no differently than any other. We are equals in Paradise. God does not favor me over him. He finds my rebelliousness to be rather galling at times, and makes no hesitation in saying so. But I am somewhat hardheaded by nature. I believe in giving Him what he needs rather than simply what He asks for."

Audrey bristled at that. She took another swallow.

"How do you know what he needs? Have you got the ability to read His mind?"

Michael smiled sadly.

"You sound like Gabriel."

They stayed together under the tree for a few hours, hardly speaking, letting the sun roll slowly down to make its bed beyond the wide sweep of the hills. It grew chilly, and Audrey overcame her anger and rested her head on Michael's tattooed shoulder. She began to drift off, then jerked awake again and looked up at him.

"Promise me you won't leave." She said, and under her tone was a hint of pleading. He was her only tie to Gabriel now. Her only link with Heaven. Michael hesitated, then rose to his feet and helped her to stand.

"I will not leave until I am told to do so." He promised, and brushed the hair from her red-rimmed eyes with his fingertips. Such fragile little things, humans. But so strong at the same time. He had always loved them. "Come, let's get you back. Howard and Millie will be concerned. You mustn't worry them, they have done us all such wonderful service. Will you permit me to carry you?"

"You didn't seem to care about permission the last time."

"This is not that time."

She bit her lip, then nodded.

"Alright Michael. Wait a second though." And Audrey leaned down to trickle a few drops of mead on the leaf at the base of the tree. Then she handed the bemused angel his flask and eased herself into his arms with a sigh. A moment later, they took to the air together.

* * *

Gabriel stood silent, looking down at the jewel-bright grass below his sandaled feet.

"Well?" God asked finally, and it was the gentle tone of a father questioning his wayward son as to whether or not a lesson has stuck. Gabriel raised his impassive face, emotionless and ageless, and turned to face his Creator.

"It is Your will that I not return to this young woman."

"Yes."

"But you are extending to me the choice to either do so or remain, as I see fit."

"As I told the little girl, it's a small gift to a loyal and noble servant. You have done well, Gabriel. You've earned a decade or so of respite. But see that you do not break the Law with her. I don't want to have to send you to hell. And Gabriel…I would have no other choice. You would be damning yourself, choosing selfish desires, lust and greed and pride, over pure service to God! That would take you out of My hands and place you into the eager arms of the Morning Star." The Shepherd placed His hand on Gabriel's massive shoulder and turned him around, looking earnestly up into his pale blue eyes. "If you go to her and know her as a human man, then you will suffer the torments of hell forever."

Gabriel's expression did not change.

"What of Audrey? What of her immortal soul?"

"She would be damned as well."

"Forgive me, my Lord…but You are incorrect."

Continents ceased their movement. The moon faltered on her course a fraction of an inch, and great heaves of water sloshed with startled chaos in the basins of the ocean. The galaxies held fast for a nanosecond. Black holes stilled their cosmological gluttony for a pulse. Whole universes, all that could be or had ever been, twitched. The very ground beneath their feet seemed somehow insubstantial for an eye blink. And then all was right again.

"What?" God inquired politely. Gabriel met His eyes.

"The Blood of the Lamb covers all sins. If Audrey is a Christian…then any sin may be forgiven. Any sin."

"It doesn't give her the right to continually commit them throughout her life, over and over again whenever she sees fit! That is not how it works, Gabriel!"

"No. But it indicates something to me. You parted the curtain of sin that separated these humans from You, my Lord, even at a cost that was so great it broke Your heart."

The Shepherd nodded.

_For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, for whosoever shall believeth in him shall not perish, but have eternal life_.

Gabriel touched his Creator's hand.

"You promised. And You did it for a reason. It is because You love them, Father. As I never dared to love them. You loved them and You did not withhold even Your own Son to bring them close to You. Grace and love moved You to make a way." The Archangel's eyes were sad now, and his deep voice softened, "No matter the cost."

The Shepherd shook His head, weary sorrow also lighting His features. From the brilliant rose hedge beside them bounded a grinning Rottweiler, who nuzzled Gabriel with the exuberance of a puppy. Gabriel leaned down to touch his head, saying nothing, letting his comment sink in.

Finally, the Lord spoke.

"I do not want to lose you."

"I know, Father."

"There is something you need to know, Gabriel. Something I have to show you before you make this choice."

Gabriel straightened, standing at the ready, immense and strong and solid and ready for any test, any battle, any assignment.

"To hear is to obey, Lord."

God took his hand.

"Very well. Gabriel…we must go to the Valley. I think it is time for you to be reunited with your brother."

The Archangel was slightly confused.

"My Lord, Michael is with Audrey. You sent him…"

"I do not mean Michael." The Shepherd said wearily as they walked down the hill together.

"I mean Raphael."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22: The Ghost of Babylon

Everything in Gabriel paused and shook at these words, and he stopped walking for a moment.

"Raphael is dead. His wings…"

"Were found, yes. He died in Babylon." God did not stop walking, and Gabriel was compelled to move forward again to keep up with Him. A happy gaggle of lesser angels, their white wings shimmering with droplets of spring water, came racing overhead in a tangle of white robes and whirling feathers. They circled the pair on the ground beneath them in pure, wordless joy, making hallelujahs with their laughter. God raised His face, smiling. Gabriel did not even look up.

"If Raphael perished in Babylon, then how comes it that You are bringing me to the Unholy Lands to seek him? Even if he had been made mortal following the loss of his wings and died a frail human's death in that field, Your soldier died fighting for You and for this kingdom. He would not have been damned for such a noble death."

"He did not die a hero's death."

"My Lord, I beg of You. Enough riddles. I would never dare presume to accuse You, my Alpha and Omega, of misleading me. Never. But I was told specifically that Raphael was lost to us during that battle. Michael found…"

"Michael found his wings. Michael found that they had been severed from his body by the blades of the fallen angels and dislodged entirely in his plummet to the field. You know that Raphael would not have died from that fall. You and Michael have damaged one another worse during your little skirmishes over the human girl."

This last comment caused a muscle to twitch in Gabriel's jaw. Little skirmishes…the scent of burning blood and feathers came forcefully back to him. The cold rush of wind against his face. A freefall to earth, jack pine branches lashing their bodies like the whips of demons as they spiraled end over end in a deathly embrace of rage and pain and defiance and loss. Little skirmishes. The kind that can break the hearts of angels.

Yea, the Lord was speaking.

"I cannot believe that you would risk your soul for a girl who does not even believe in Me."

"Holy Creator, she believes in You now."

"Atheists in fox holes, Gabriel."

There was no reply to this, really. It was a valid point. Gabriel cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"And so Raphael…lived?"

"He did."

"But he must have taken terrible injury."

"Yes. The very worst that an angel can sustain. The sort you and your brother seem to enjoy inflicting upon one another so frequently." The Shepherd paused and looked up at Gabriel, but there was only the barest whisper of sternness in his gaze. Gabriel did not argue with Him. He never argued with Him.

"But you speak of him as though that were not the end of his story."

They began walking again, down through the Valley and towards the deceptively pleasant cobblestone path that wound its way by and by to Hell. Such a peaceful, dreamlike, easy road. Gabriel fluffed his wings and turned his bright eyes to the ground at his feet. The last time he truly smiled had been millennia ago, when Martha danced in the streets with her tambourine and her painted hands and the angels chuckled among themselves. God sighed.

"It was not the end of Raphael's story. He fell an unimaginable distance and struck the ground with enough impact to break bones and tear his wings from his body. He lay dying there in a field of grain under the hot Babylonian sun. And there he would have died had it not been for the intervention of a vigilant farmer, who with his sons carried the body of the horribly disfigured angel back to his home. There, the farmer and his family set about healing your brother. They tended to him night and day, trickling goat's milk down his throat and bathing his injuries and wrapping him in linen bandages soaked in herbed water. Finally, on the fourteenth day of his confinement, Raphael opened his eyes."

They passed a grove of lemon trees, and Zeus bounded joyfully out to greet them. His black fur gleamed in the sunlight and his grinning jaws revealed gleaming white teeth. Gabriel bent down to pat his head, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Raphael had not died? But….

"But Michael said that he was no more."

"Michael found his wings. And vast quantities of blood. But not his body."

"Did Michael…lie?" Such a concept was unheard-of. Impossible. Baffling. Gabriel felt shock settle in his stomach like mud in still water. The Shepherd did not answer right away, kneeling down to stroke his faithful hound's head.

"Michael said what I told him to say."

Gabriel did not have words to respond to this. They walked together, now a trio, and God continued His narrative.  
"When Raphael awoke, the first person he beheld was Anat, the fifteen year old daughter of the farmer who had saved him. She was bathing his feverish brow with cool water, and her slim wrists were as delicate as a fawn's, and her eyes were the color of olives, and she stared at the big angel and his blue eyes looked into her soul, and so on, and so forth." God trailed off, falling silent. Gabriel could scarcely believe what he was hearing, though his face betrayed no emotion. Finally, he spoke.

"My brother fell in love with a human."

"Yes."

"And he did not die."

"No."

"And he did not ascend to Paradise when he passed on."

A hesitation. Then, "No."

"But if he did not return to Heaven…" He stopped walking. The Shepherd continued on a few paces, then halted as well and looked back. His expression was one of weary resignation, a Father who has lost a son to drugs, or to street gangs, or to dice or drink.

"Yes," He said, His eyes sad, "Archangel Raphael resides in Hell. I am taking you to him so that you may be warned of the price you will pay should you continue on this course of action, Gabriel. If you do not wish to listen to My counsel, then perhaps your own eyes will convince you to abandon your suicidal attraction to Audrey Anderson."

Gabriel felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. It was with great effort that he continued on, moving his feet through sheer force of will. He spoke not a word, his face displaying no emotion. But something moved across his eyes. Where once Audrey had seen the ghost of a smile and been utterly captivated by it, there now flickered a haunting of tears. He bowed his head and followed the Lord.

* * *

Michael sat at the breakfast table with Old Pete on his lap, listening politely as Millie explained to him the proper way to scramble eggs. Howard sat across from him hemming a pile of shirts with holes sliced through the back to accommodate their houseguest's feathered appendages, every once in awhile adding to the conversation. He was happy that his wife was happy, and he could tell that she was indeed so. Michael was dear to her, she viewed his return to their home as something wonderful and miraculous, and she had made it her unspoken mission to care for him as though he were the son she had lost so very long ago. Audrey sat on the couch, silent and hollow-eyed, wrapped in a quilt despite the heat of the day.

"Some folks like to add a little pinch of baking powder to the mix, then give it a whip with the whisk to get a lot of air in there, make them fluffy. I prefer to put in a dollop of cream too, and some parsley flakes. Salt, pepper, butter in the pan. Here, Michael, come try your hand at the whisk."

"I have never whisked eggs."

Millie looked at him over the tops of her glasses and smiled kindly.

"Now's the time to try. Come on now, while the griddle's heating up." She stepped aside as he rose to his feet and moved to stand by the counter beside her. He took the whisk in his hand and followed her movements, his eyes on his work, and a small smile betrayed his pleasure at this simple task. Millie put an arm around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment in a gesture of approval, then turned to begin chopping potatoes for hash.

Howard watched them, his chest pinching slightly as he thought of the empty place at the table, the empty spot in the house, the empty spot in his heart. He stood up and poured a second cup of coffee and carried it to Audrey, sitting beside her. They sipped in silence for a little while.

"You were there, were you? Up there in that other place."

Audrey glanced at him and slowly nodded. "Eden. I was there. It was really nice, I think, even though I was too upset to really see it."

Howard rubbed his thigh and thought about his father, gone these last twenty years. His mother, gone twelve.

"Did you see many folks you knew up there? Your parents?"

"I didn't see anyone else there. Just an angel. A really bossy angel, that one from the yard who was rude to you. He wasn't much nicer in Paradise. But from what he said, that's not the place people go when they die. Humans aren't allowed in Eden anymore because of the Apple Tree. I think they go someplace else that I didn't see."

"Well I'll be. I reckon there's different cities up there, same as down here. Maybe you need to be someone special to travel from one to the other. I suppose…I suppose you'll see it all soon enough when your fella comes on back to get you."

Something in the old man's voice made Audrey come out of her own misery a little and look at him. He took off his glasses, polishing them on his faded denim shirt, and when he glanced at her his eyes were the same shade of worn blue, eyes that radiated kindness and compassion and soothing reassurance. The eyes of a healer. Audrey swallowed hard and hugged the blanket around her tighter.

"If…when he comes back, I think I would rather live in a little trailer near you and Millie than in the finest palace in Heaven." She said quietly. Howard laid his hand on hers and squeezed it, smiling. He didn't immediately reply.

"You'd be welcome, young lady. Most welcome."

* * *

Millie called them to breakfast, and for the first time in days Audrey actually felt hungry. She piled her plate with eggs, toast, bacon, and fruit. Howard did the same, and Millie beamed to see them dig in. Then she looked at Michael, sitting with an empty plate and smiling gently back at her.

"Eat something." She said.

"No thank you."

"Have you ever eaten?"

"It is unnecessary for an angel of the Lord to take outside sustenance from food or water. We require very little sleep, either."

Audrey, hearing his words, thought back to the few brief and wonderful moments in the cave with Gabriel, watching him sleep beside her. She lowered her eyes to the red checked oilcloth over the table, feeling pain lance across her heart.

"Try to eat. Take a spoonful. Come on now, Mike. Just a bite?" Millie cajoled. She tipped a pile of fluffy yellow eggs into the center of his plate and gave it a little push. Howard, his scientific curiosity piqued, watched expectantly.

With a sigh of resignation, Michael picked up a fork and took a small bite. Everyone stared at him. Even Audrey looked up.

The angel quietly chewed and swallowed, then politely smiled at Millie and Howard.

"Quite good. Thank you."

"You can digest it? It ain't gonna stick in your stomach? How do you absorb the nutrients? Do you excrete any waste?"

"Howard!" Millie burst in, horrified. Michael looked mildly amused, tilting his head. Howard looked embarrassed. Audrey gasped, then giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. But it was too late. The laughter couldn't be suppressed. Soon she was laughing hard enough to make tears spring to her eyes, leaning on Howard and wiping her cheeks with her hand. After a moment, Michael joined her, and then the old veterinarian himself. Finally even Millie was chuckling, shaking her head.

"Oh you nosy man! Leave the poor fellow alone, let him eat!" She quickly scooped more eggs onto Michael's plate, and toast and bacon. She filled a glass of orange juice. Michael's wings fluffed slightly, but it was the only sign of agitation. He took a sip of juice and nodded to Howard.

"Of course we _can_ eat. We do not require it, but it is possible. I have done so before on many occasions. But our systems are far more efficient than a human being's, and we are able to avoid some of the less pleasant side effects of food consumption. Any and all of the pleasures afforded to human beings are theoretically possible for an angel to partake of…although some are frowned upon." He finished rather softly. Audrey's smile died on her lips, and there was an awkward silence. But Michael reached over and touched her knee under the table. She met his eyes, and they were kind.

"Any rule without exception is a flawed law, Audrey, for in it are the seeds of tyranny. God is no tyrant. If He were, your kind would never have been allowed to enter Paradise after the Fall. Other exceptions may be made."

"Have you ever seen Him make an exception before?"

Michael took a delicate bite of toast and set the piece down on the edge of his plate, carefully wiping his elegant fingers on a napkin. He nodded.

"Humanity is here, are they not? You were spared rather recently from the end of the world."

"Thanks to you."

"Thanks to God changing His mind after He witnessed the strength and goodness of which mankind is still capable. And He is impressed with you as well, Audrey, else you would never have been permitted to return to Earth. Hell looms just as close."

"A series of connected lowlands surrounded by a mountain range. Yes, Gabriel told me. Michael, I miss him. I love your brother and I miss him!" She abruptly banged her small fist on the surface of the table, making the salt shaker jump slightly and tip, sending minute crystals skittering across the tablecloth like a galaxy. Millie looked at her with worry, Howard with empathetic sorrow. Michael placidly took her hand in both of his and held it, looking into her tear-filled eyes. His voice was soothing and reasonable.  
"If you were grateful for the chance that Father has given your kind again, believe He will do the same once more. He is not unreasonable, He has the eyes that see all, and He sees you. Have faith, child, and your heart will no longer be burdened. We shall wait and see. Eat, you need your strength."

Audrey swallowed hard, feeling rage and worry flare in her chest like a solar prominence. But Michael's words rang true, she felt them on a level that she had not experienced before. Slowly, she slid her hand from his gentle grasp and picked up her fork. Then she dug into the eggs again, pushing them about on her plate.

"Faith," she finally said, "What the hell has faith done for me?"

"I will tell you what faith has done. It kept you alive for many years when young ladies with weaker constitutions ended their own lives or sought refuge in drugs and alcohol. It kept your fierce heart beating when you lay in a tangle of sweaty blankets in the confines of a chill cave among the clouds. It caused you to place your trust, finally, in a creature you once feared. And it gave you the unimaginable courage to lecture the Creator of Heaven and Earth Himself." Michael actually smiled, shaking his head, "You and I are not so different in our approaches to difficult situations, Audrey. Not so different at all."

Audrey looked up at him.

"You're a soldier in God's army. I'm a fucked-up teenager. What difference can I make in the grand scheme of anything?" She asked him, but there was a fragile edge to her voice, the strength that never fully deserted her no matter the circumstances. Michael heard it there, and he gave her a knowing look.

"The Apostle Paul was a murderer. He made a difference. King David was an adulterer. He made a difference. Thomas doubted, Noah was far too fond of wine, Ezekiel walked the border of insanity, Peter had a dreadful temper, and Abraham argued about everything. They all made a difference. If there is one thing the Lord seems very fond of, it is unpredictable and imperfect humanity rising to the occasion when they must. There is greatness in you, child. Have faith, if nothing else, in that."

Audrey took a deep breath and released it slowly, letting his words sink into her heart. She stroked the black feather in her hair. Finally she nodded.

"Alright, Michael. I will."

* * *

Light years and lifetimes away, The Shepherd and the Archangel arrived before the iron Gates of Hell. God placed His hand on the door, swinging them noiselessly inward, and He paused a moment on the brink. Without turning to look at Gabriel, He spoke.

"There is still time to turn back, if you wish. You don't have to do this."

Gabriel squared his mighty shoulders and raised his chin a fraction of an inch. There was no fear in his eyes. Nothing but determination. Whatever lay in the land of the awful red glow beyond, he would greet it with the courage that defined his very existence. Audrey's face he held as a votive in his chest, driving back the shadows.

"I am not afraid." He said. God sighed and inclined his head.  
A moment later the gates swung closed again on the empty field. The angels hovered over the spot where their Creator and their beloved Gabriel had stood, keening. But sorrow does not last in Heaven, and soon enough they sailed back to the Citadel to wheel around the grand spire, endlessly singing their heartbreakingly lovely hymns.


End file.
